The Great Harbinger

The silence, opaque in nature
Broken by the abhored
For sevenfold the behemoth snores
Biding in its restless sleep
As it never ceased to crack the sky

Where giants wander in wanning valleys
Snow too deep for man to go
The stars above so far and luring
A cascade of legends in the throes
Of whispered shadows and evil throned

The bright bite of the lonesome moon
Washes the behemoth in shades of hue
Awakened in its babtismal rite
Renewed for the coming age
Striding depths of death where he steps