398 . The Final Dream
I listen closely and I hear the loud beating of the ancient drums,
In the distance someone is frantically blowing hard on a horn,
My ears detect the eight hooves of Sleipnir as Valfather comes,
And the thundering of his son, when with lightning the sky is torn.
I hear the echo of a hound coming from deep within a distant cave,
And the snapping of restraints as the wolf Fenrir breaks itself free,
The sound of fingernails scratching, as the dead dig from their grave,
Are drowned out by the falling of dead leaves from the World Tree.
I slowly become aware of the billowing wind as Naglfar sets it's sail,
And the waves as they part, when Jormungandr rises from the deep,
I cover my ears to the awful sounds of the recent dead as they wail,
And tears form in my eyes, for the mournful mothers as they weep.
The sounds grow in intensity as the forces of good and evil finally clash,
And the groans of the injured only cease when each one honorably dies,
I hear the crackling of burning Midgard as Muspell's sons turn it to ash,
And when Odin falls, the weeping of Frigga as she breaks down and cries.
The crash of Thor's hammer resounds with the breaking of fragile bone,
Jormungandr spits poison one last time, before dead it hits the ground,
However, the great Midgard Serpent on this fateful day will not die alone,
For Thor has taken his last nine steps, and no longer makes a sound.
I am frightened awake, and somehow manage to let out a hoarse scream,
Slowly, the fog of the nightmare begins to lift, as I lay on my death bed,
And then the realization comes that it was nothing more than a dream,
As I take my last breath, I smile, for I know the Old Gods are not dead.
- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2016.