A massive orange moon meanders
upward through the mist
of thunderheads that flash with vengeance
hurled by Odin’s fist,
unsettled by the spectacle
unfolding in the sky
I comb through entrails for a sign
that Ragnarök draws nigh
but soon decide my fulsome fears
will fade come light of morn
though in my ear I swear I hear
a distant wailing horn.
Are You Reading Me?
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