The One True Creation

They came in steel and frozen light,

with flags of gold in endless night.

The skies were burning from their swarm,

they called it peace — it came as storm.

With hands of hunger, eyes of greed,

they claimed a world they did not need.

The children of the stars stood still,

while freedom broke beneath their will.

“We are the crown, the end, the start!”

they shouted loud with hollow hearts.

Behind their helmets forged in pride

was endless darkness locked inside.

We are the one true creation!

Their iron voices roar.

They chain the souls to cold machines,

then always hunger more.

They build their thrones from bones and ash,

from fear, from blood, from war.

And call their kingdoms made of shadows

the greatest ever born.

The natives knelt in dust and pain,

their faith and voices bound in chains.

The oceans died, the forests burned,

while greed consumed all beauty earned.

They marked the flesh with brands of fire,

drank the skies to feed desire.

And anyone who dared to see

was swallowed by eternity.

But deep beneath the steel and stone,

a dying spark still softly glows.

No crown can rule forevermore,

no machine god can stop the storm.

You are not the one true creation!

Just children worshipping greed.

You forged your empires out of suffering,

but freedom will not bleed.

Somewhere beyond the ruined heavens

the final resistance stands.

And from the scars of all the broken

will rise new worlds again.

The heavens still remember.

And the stars never forget.