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~ By Courtesy of Others ~
Götterdämmerung
In winters’ darkened grip of ice
stretched end to end three years
when men are prone to whorish vice
and an endless dance of spears
When sun and moon both finally die
to feed Fenrir’s bloody get
stars fade from the darkened sky
the end of things is set
Three cocks will crow foretelling
three dread cries across nine skies
one from their sleep expelling
all the dead to groaning rise
When Midgard’s heaved and shaken
and ties unfettered all fall free
loosing those by Aesir forsaken
upon the raging frothy sea
Churned up by serpents angry tail
a loathsome craft from darkened waves
to war with Gods the giants sail
a ship of nails from plundered graves
When the serpent taints the water
ground and air with every breath
And every matrons son and daughter
falls choked on poison to their death
When from hell another ship departs
vile betrayer at the helm
with blackened, hardened, hateful hearts
to war on Odin’s realm
And from the south, a burning blade
that rivals blazing sun
leads Muspell to the final raid
on Asgard that’s begun
When the watcher on the bifrost way
sounds the shouting horn at last
and Odin calls tru Gods and men
to face the nithing host so vast
When fire’s roar and thunders’ blast
and steel on steels’ fierce ringing
and the crashing tromp of jotun feet
and Einherjars’ defiant singing
All fill the air to intertwine
With the copper scent of blood
Spattered out, like drunk-spilled wine
In a steaming crimson flood
Surtr burns he who lost his sword
and one hand slays the hound of hel
triumphant stands the fire lord
Tyr dead where next to Garm he fell
The midgard serpent wounded falls
Upon the Lord of Thunder
Allfather torn by Fenrirs claws '
ere he joins dead Jorgamunder
Then Surtr looses blazing tongue
of flame across the vigrid plain
so mightily those fell fires flung
they fall like molten rain
Across nine worlds to flaming burn
Yggdrasil will groan and shiver
as the fire all to ash will turn
and set boiling lake and river
And all will sink beneath the sea
as a final darkness falls
leaving just the memory
of Asgards’ hallowed halls
Or so say they who sing that song
of doom on our fathers and their Gods
but sung however sweetly,
its still eminently wrong
Why I’ll tell you if you wish
if by now you haven’t guessed;
It’s lullaby by clergy writ
to lay old Gods to rest.
© Slaeghunder Slaeghunder AT yahoo.com