The World Serpent (Jörmungandr)
Beneath the churning salt of freezing seas,
A coil of emerald scales begins to wake;
The monster stirs with ancient, slow unease,
Until the very foundations start to shake.
He circles all the lands of mortal men,
With tail held fast within a venomed jaw;
Wait for the day he rises from his den,
To break the cycle of the cosmic law.
The thunder-god shall meet him on the strand,
With iron hammer raised against the sky;
Two titans clashing on a dying land,
Where both are fated in the end to die.
The ocean swallows up the burning sun,
When the Great Serpent’s final coil is spun.
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