In dawn’s first breath, two figures rise,A golden flare, a silver guise.Born of Leto’s quiet plea,Twin gods shaped by destiny. Apollo strides with sun‑lit grace,A blaze of fire upon his face.His lyre sings of mortal dreams,Of prophecy and shining beams. Artemis moves through twilight’s veil,A whisper soft as moonlit trail.Her arrows hum with wild command,Protector of the untamed land. One rules the day with radiant art,One guards the night with hunter’s heart.Opposing forces, yet entwined—Two halves of balance, well‑aligned.