In desert lands where olive trees once wept,
A lion strikes the crescent as it slept.
From silent skies, the fire tongues descend,
Two eagles watch — but neither dares defend.
The black sun rises o’er the Eastern gate,
Blood marks the sand, and silence seals their fate.
Twin flames consume the temple and the throne,
The jackal feeds where kings once stood alone.
When Mars and Saturn join in Scorpion’s breath,
The ram shall bleed beneath the lion’s death.
A fire shall fall when Venus hides her face,
And night shall rule the starless, broken place.