Presage of Forms

Before winter turns to daytime, and when summer turns to night,
After the dead live forever, and two wrongs make a right,
Six shall be the final number of perfection of forms,
The Power Universal unlocked, like a war of storms.
Those present on that fate-guided day find themselves thrust with might
And the dead shall live forever, but wrong never makes right.

Presage of Forms

The Great Power lrdodge