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~ By Courtesy of Others ~

 

Dreams of Ragnarok

I dreamed about the end of all,
and the night was shot by fire.
The horn had sounded,
the wolf broke free
and howls filled the night.

Skoll had coursed the silver moon,
had slain the golden sun
Ymir's brood marched with the ice
As Surt's poured from the fire.

Loki sailed with the murderers,
With the liars and cowards both.
Hel sailed too with a ship of damned
who yearned for a brighter end.

In the cities were howls of fear,
in the churches were cries and pleas
Yet there were some who answered the horn
as their ancestors had of old.

Old men took down forgotten arms,
and cleaned them with eyes grown cold.
Young men marched from their armouries,
eyes bright as they lock and load.

Men and women in a thin green line
match the storm that will break the world
Rifles clutched in their trembling hands,
As the fighters scream into the storm.

Endless Jotnar with their howling cries
march through the cannons´ fire
Artillery and rifle fire cross
with the lightning and blood red fire.

The living fall as they hold the line
Against a foe they are too few to hold.
Choppers smashed by the icy storm,
Fighters by dragons breath.

Upon all fronts the brave ones fall,
against this foe there is no defence
no steel alone can hold back the night
no shell can win this fight

Soon in the sky a thunder sounds
A red beard Thor in his chariot rides
Against the dragons Spitfires fly
with Messerschmitt at their sides.

Choppers dive for the wounded ones;
Valkyries for the honoured dead.
As one armed Tyr leads the Great War dead
in waves ten thousand strong.

Odin rides with his spear stained red
The wild hunt rides behind.
Wolves lead the grind of ghostly tracks
From Dunkirk to Afghanistan come.

Montcalm and Wolfe quickly dress their lines
coats red and blue will advance
Frey and Freya shining bright
behind a wall of bayonets

Drakkar and Dreadnought prowl the seas
Hornets and Hurricanes the sky
Dooms are wrought on gods and men
but the foe himself is whelmed.

At last to know peace, our honoured dead
with their lords and banners rest.
The horn is broken, no more to sound,
but this night too has an end.

At the end of the night a new sun shines,
children greet it with awe,
The living bury the honoured dead,
and songs ring out in the hall.

© John T. Mainer 

This work by John T Mainer is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives License.

The Freyr's Press of the Heathen Freehold Society of BC:
Kindertales and Kindertales 2 by John T Mainer et al.

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