Not just skin, not just bone and vein,
But a vessel for power, a breaker of chain.
Each finger a pillar of ivory and light,
Holding the keys to the kingdom of night.
This is the hand that commands the storm,
Reshaping the world in a brand new form.
It does not tremble, it does not fear,
Drawing the stars and the galaxies near.
With a single gesture, the mountains bow low,
And the rivers of fire begin to flow.
A palm that carries the weight of the sky,
Under whose shadow the old gods die.
The lines on this skin are maps of the soul,
Keeping the chaos in steady control.
It clenches with fury, it opens with grace,
Leaving a mark that time can't erase.
It writes the laws of a magical age,
Turning with lightning the ultimate page.
The pulse at the wrist is a rhythmic drum,
Singing of battles that are yet to come.
From the tips of the nails to the strength of the grip,
The secrets of empires from this hand slip.
It crushes the lies of the bitter and weak,
And finds the high truths that the brave ones seek.
It reaches for suns that are burning and red,
Waking the spirits that others have fled.
A fortress of spirit, a weapon of art,
Driven by fire from a warrior's heart.
This hand is the anchor, the sword, and the flame,
Carving in stardust a glorious name.
Through the deep velvet of space it will lead,
Planting in darkness a heavenly seed.
No force in the cosmos can ever withstand,
The absolute power of the Sovereign Hand.