To have one power, I hath been asked, for the winds of the setting sun forgets. Severed away and sorrows clash, any power would be good as a birthday bash.
From ice to fire, come wind and crystal towers, but forgotten among the buried sand, main powers and elements confound us, learn and listen to what you must.
Forgotten is found, what is found is forgotten, five of all must be sewn shut, seven leaves, two mourning doves welcome you on the street.
Five for love,
Seven for creativity,
Two forgotten among them both.
Silver rings dressing the fingers, the actual skin forgotten, humanity gone and replaced with wealth.
Horrid making and silver lost, the one underdressed may stand above the rest, and move from the powers, I think I know, how far humanity will ever go.
