She is clothed in dignity and strength,
they adorn her more regally than silks and pearls.
No fear for the future pinches her noble visage,
her proud head tilted, cheeks framed by artful curls.
For she knows herself; confidence radiates in every step,
she is a woman of the Engine, noble blood runs through her veins.
The product of fine breeding and flawless etiquette,
the distant world of the elite, the upper echelons is her domain.

Diamonds dazzle about her throat as the lowly grovel at her feet,
A glance from her, the sound of her voice, directed their way...
to think that SHE, so far above, so beautiful and accomplished,
would deign to notice, to know their NAME, to hear what they say!
She is the epitome of achievement. Her refinement and poise
are things to envy, to be like her is the wish of all who pass her by.
A spine of steel, a heart of ice, she is composed in the chaos.
Wisdom is her cloak, loyalty her staff. Hard and yet soft; yet why?

Why does the rabble start to whisper? To find flaw and pull her under?
In days of old they sought to be her, clamoured to just be near her,
she was everything Magnagora would be, could be, should be.
The voices chitter angrily, together they conspire, we can do better!
Her sterling record matters naught, the many times she succeeded
the example she sets, the perfection she represents, torn asunder.
Jealousy bites hard, the foolish partake, "We are better! Forget her!"
How quickly the past is dismissed, and all that once was revered goes
under.

Chaos turns the cogs of war, Magnagora rides above it, directs it,
with a firm hand and fierce discipline, each knowing their place
That is how success is born. She knew it, lived it, taught it.
But they thought they knew better, in envy, with inferior race.
Traditions begin to waver; her control slips, tension holds her now
the culture we so admired threatened, disrespect and savagery hold
court.
Will she be forgotten? Is it time for change, the era moved on forever?
Or should we mourn the loss of our heritage? What destruction have we
wrought?