Winds of sylph carry the autumn leaves
Memories cut deep; sharper than Mistilteinn
Dancing in the air, slowly the world tree weaves
A fate by which the gods could have never seen
Demise
Despair
The sunrises
Hot air
Unbearable the heat
Dries the lands
The crops of fields become ash
No rain to replete
Soils become sands
The anger of a distant land
Hiding
Thor walks nine paces
Hissing
His head races
The world serpent had won
The true story known by none
A golden ship in the sky appeared that day
Ornate, decorated in sunlight rays
It sailed all the seas to finally find its prey
The valkyries boarded to sing of life
The true creator had arrived
Old foes, the serpent spoke in ancient tongues screaming the poison of atma
Engulfing the world in black, crushing it and all life under the smoke and its body
The ship sailed through this darkness cutting it
At lightning speed the blinding image of a cat dashed through the poisonous gas
The long eve of deception had finally passed
How ironic.
The world saved
Generations of different songs
Many whom have got it wrong
Fight their wars and battles
Celebrate of names in tattle
Idol gossip
But still somehow, in the light of new days
Under the sun they call out in joy and victory to the one
Saviour not remembered
So they say
Who? Ra!
©The Sad Owl
Categories: poetry
The Sad Owl
I'm just here. Until I'm not.
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