The heavens warred
above us,
for decades at a time:
with blazing lights at midnight,
and
shadows stalking past at noon.

We took shelter in the depths,
left our children in their
graves.
The old and weak among us
fell beneath

the dying
of
the gods.

Towers tall as mountains,
walls once thick and strong,
cities split like gemstones
by the fountains bursting through.

Scorching heat,
flames born of wind,
the air around us burning,
the deepest depths our
only
refuge from the fallen
fusing forms.

Cold, both long and bitter
followed,
all our caverns covered over.
Unceasing was our journey
and to stall was
certain death.

In time the final judgment came,
and heralds marched the skies.
The soft sweet glow of
sunset,
and the trumpet call of
dawn.
Day by day the rivers swelled,
and life crept up again
through white.

The final moment of the battle came,
with the shudder of a curse,
and the body of a demon
flung from God's sweet
afterglow.

His body left a trail of ash
wind found the bits and swept them,
day by day they sifted
ever closer to our earth.
The rest of him, a smoking wreck,
destroyed our tallest mountain,
fire rose from it
for years,
and then settled into smoke.

Until the dragons woke.
Then came the end.