In the realm of earth's depth, a quest for purest gold,
Unseen hands unite as one, a standard to uphold.
Four crafters of boundless wealth, to honor's song they hold;
For in the heart of crystals mined, lie tales of honor told.
Upon the eastern dragon’s breath, a plague unseen does brew,
The world's healers seek truth 'midst the celestial hue.
Tales of children, stricken low, stir hearts with fear anew,
A plea for knowledge in the dark, the candle's flame to strew.
In the West, the silvered coin casts a seeming spell,
Yet whispers ‘round the hearth foretell a coming swell.
Though strength does fade, ‘tis not foreseen that it will quickly quell,
Bits of gold in times of need, in pockets they will dwell.
