Sing, Muse, of the days of old,
When gods clashed in battles bold.
When Titans and Olympians fought,
And men upon the Earth were caught.


In the Titanomachy's fierce strife,
Towns and tribes lost their life.
Orphaned children roamed the hills,
Their parents slain by divine wills.


Yet the Titans, with compassion rare,
Gathered these children in their care.
To New Cronus, a paradise fair,
They brought six hundred, love to share.


The Seedlings, they were named,
Eternal Children, untamed.
For centuries, they remained young,
Their innocence like a sweet song sung.


But time would catch up, as it does,
And they would age like mortal fuss.
The Eldings, they became in time,
Fathers to new Seedlings sublime.


Twelve Seedlings chosen, gifted with might,
Titan Seeds, warriors of light.
With powers derived from gods above,
They strove to earn their sires' love.


But alas, the Titans met their fate,
Banished to Tartarus, a dark state.
New Cronus lost to history's page,
Legends whispered, half-remembered sage.


The Titan Seeds disappeared from sight,
To sleep until called to the fight.
Legends say they still await their call,
But truth or myth, none can forestall.


New Cronus flourished, slow but sure,
An agrarian haven, warm and pure.
Mechanical wonders provided all,
No need for war, no need to fall.


The Seedlings played, carefree and bright,
Their days filled with endless delight.
Only the Eldings worked and toiled,
Their lives fleeting, like dreams spoiled.


So sing, Muse, of these ancient days,
Of gods and men in immortal frays.
Let their stories echo through the years,
And fill our hearts with awe and tears.