Atlantis, realm of beauty unparalleled,
Where food flows freely, and the land yields its bounty.
When will your wings spread, reaching into the unknown?
Your wisdom and power beckon, a siren's call.

Land of grace, land of honor,
Can you forever hide from the encroaching darkness?
A grain of dust, precious beyond measure,
Guarded by Atlas, the Titan of strength.

His Gate, a sentinel at the realm's edge,
Holding back the tide of horror.
But within you lies a hidden potential,
A virus waiting to be unleashed.

The Counselors, born of Oron's will,
Their suspicion grows, their worry endless.
They impose order, yet fear the inevitable,
Despite Atlas's unwavering protection.

Atlantis, where does your trust reside?
In Atlas? The Counselors? Oron?
Time ticks on, the fall is certain,
Your glory fading, a memory whispered.

Lost gods will return, to mourn your passing,
A realm of beauty, reduced to nothing.
Atlantis, your fate hangs in the balance,
A tragedy waiting to unfold, waiting for your wings to collapse.