The Fall of the Chosen Star
—A Prophecy by the Last Watcher—
Beneath the veil of sacred land,
Where prophets walked on golden sand,
The iron winds begin to blow—
Saturn speaks, and Rahu glows.
A land once blessed, now marked in red,
Where ancient kings and seers once bled.
The trumpet calls from Persia’s shore,
And knocks upon the Lion’s door.
Iran shall rise, with fiery eye,
Its atom heart shall touch the sky.
The shield of stars shall twist and bend,
And empires crumble in the end.
The eagle’s wings, once proud and wide,
Shall falter in the storm and slide.
Allies flee, no hand shall save—
The mighty fall into their grave.
Jerusalem, O sacred flame,
Shall echo not its holy name.
For half thy walls will turn to dust,
And prayers be silenced in their trust.
From out the West, division wakes,
As brother from his brother breaks.
Civil fire and shattered pride—
Each state a nation, carved and wide.
The House of Stars shall bleed apart,
Its beating drum a broken heart.
The dollar dies, the markets choke—
The dragon laughs in crimson smoke.
The bear shall feast on fading meat,
While Persia plants its throne in heat.
A robe of black, a ring of light,
Will crown the East with silent might.
And those who once did rule by fear,
Shall see their end come drawing near.
The hunted rise, the hunters fall—
The stars will answer to them all.
Netanyahu, cast from thy land,
Will stand before a foreign hand.
No robe, no shield, no sword to lift—
But judgment swift, and fate as gift.
The halls of glass, where nations met,
Will echo loud with deep regret.
No more the UN’s solemn vow—
Its flag shall burn, then fade somehow.
And from the smoke, a shape appears,
A new world born from ancient fears.
Not East nor West, but boundless air—
A voice unknown, both just and fair.
But sorrow comes before the light,
And darkest is the final night.
The karma sown in wrathful pride,
Returns like tide, none may hide.
For Rahu turns the wheel unseen,
And Saturn balances the mean.
The wise will fast, the fools will feast—
The meek inherit last, and least.
But hush—O Reader, watch and wait,
The stars have locked the final gate.
And though the fire may burn the page,
It leaves behind the Golden Age.
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