Leviathan is raising again
over cities and valleys,
as an insurgent breath
he shakes the foundations
of the world
always changing.
That he laid sleeping
into the depth of oblivion,
they said, stuffed
and turned into stone
covered by mud
of ages already gone,
they said.
Drinking and laughing,
they raised their mansions
on the pit
that once was his body.
"Come", they said, "a bag
of coins for touching
his flank,
a snapshot, another for the glittering
gem of his eyes".
But behold his wings
spreading and announcing
a deep and endless night.
The sleeping beast awakes,
claiming for every jewel taken away,
every garment.
Where are the pride
of the high and mighty one?, he bellows,
where the armies
eager for war?
Are they perchance gasping terrified
by the growing flames?,
are they perchance rummaging
under the altars, licking
their last prayers?
Leviathan is raising,
and the dawn is announced
by the tremor of his fire.
Set the flames
of his ancient madness on,
to melt the primal
chain of the jailer,
and watch them burn,
and watch them moan,
and watch them cry,
before the last
blazing fire
melts heaven and earth
into the chaos
of a new morning.
