In shadows deep the press did sleep,
Forged from fire, dreams to keep.
Abandoned now in silence dread,
A titan bound by visions fled.
John of Woods, with eyes alight,
Proclaimed a claim by mystic rite:
"I'll house this metal beast sublime,
Yet speak of limits bound by Time."
Jeffrey stood 'neath starry lore,
Questioning truths obscured before:
"Ambiguity clouds our pact,
Clarify the sacred act.
Will you alter, change its form?
Or guard intact through calm and storm?
The threshold marked by Time unknown,
Must be clear as carved in stone."
Yet deeper secrets stir within,
Beyond mere gain, beyond mere sin:
In halls of OFAD, wisdom's seat,
The press might serve a task discreet.
A shared endeavor, truths combined,
Collective souls, ideals refined.
Or barter wisdom, gold to win,
To feed the flame of knowledge thin.
Thus shall we choose in clarity,
The path for metal mystery.
To waken now, or sleep prolonged,
Through crafted verse, the truth is thronged.