Quarrel of the Birds

One was hovering in its place
whilst the other did ascend.
Both mighty birds were ready
to spar until the end.
Together, each one drifting through
the chorus of the wind

A flash of light did come at last
to take them through the gate
to a timeless place where they might end
their violent old debate
each flier's foremost task to seal
the other's grimmest fate.

The earth did sing their last farewell
with the ground's awesome quake.
Creatures scurried to and fro
as the land below did break,
each fearing that the tremors had
their early ends to make.

Thus both birds had ventured through to
and endless sea of black.
In scatterplot procession stars
brought little color back.
Indifferent to their newfound home,
the fliers did attack.

The stars were white, the sky was black,
the orb of flame was near,
the warriors both were here to fight
for what they held so dear,
and as for all the little dwarfs,
yes, they were also here.

Throughout the cosmic landscape flew
a plethora of rock,
floating about the darkened void
all gathered in a flock,
their sizes vast and varied
'cross an ocean with no dock.

One bird was clothed in fire, strong
as shepherd's sheep are tame.
It dived towards its opponent,
and cried out as it came,
for it was its most current hope
the other's life to claim.

Its foe had garments made of ice
and cold as winter's thumb.
It's breath was frozen crystal and
its heart was fierce and numb.
It flew up as if to strike, as
the other one did come.

The birds were shooting towards each other
like bullets from a gun.
Just before they did collide, each
broke their furious run,
swearing ever not to tire
until one's life was done.

They twirled 'round each other, both
exchanging crass beratings,
their last, lone chosen chore to claim
the other for the takings,
two fearsome foes, rapt, ravished by
their legendary makings.

Then suddenly amidst the clash
all colors did invert,
and yet each bird proceeded on,
although each one was hurt,
for 'twas each flier's foremost wish
their foe would be inert.

The stars became as dark as night,
the sky as white as snow.
Fire morphed to clear, blue ice
inside the sphere's vast glow.
The rocks in orbit round the orb
just added to the show.

As the calm and humble dwarfs
hammered away at stone,
it changed before their gazing eyes,
'sthey watched without a groan,
into precious gems and crystals
that were a sight alone.

They kept on mining through the war,
unknowing to the change.
They let go no expression at
the sight of drold and krange.
A floating gem passed through them all,
and this was very strange.

The fliers pecked and sliced and stabbed
with beaks and claws all worn,
though each of them were tired and
their feathers all were torn,
each fought against the other with
a well of endless scorn.

Their angry cries were all that served
the other any warn';
they flew round the colossal sphere
in a place void of morn',
in a place void of afternoon,
their beaks each like a horn,

horns like the tusks of elephants,
with which each bird could jab,
horns like that of a trumpeter
attention all to grab,
and beaks to bite the other with
like pincers of a crab.

Then one bird got the upper hand,
high over the other,
The warrior that was clothed in ice
with coldness as its brother,
it was winning now, at last! There
was no time to hover!

The stars were black, the sky was white,
the orb of ice was close,
the fliers both were here to fight
for what they loved the most,
and all the dwarfs were acting like
they’d had an overdose.

Around each of the little dwarfs
was a faint yellow glow.
They all had picks and axes which
could mine through rock or snow,
and they barely even noticed when
the colors went loco.

The bird of ice had yet to learn,
it ought pay more respect,
to that of its surroundings when
the fire's in effect,
for at that precise moment a
new flare did thus eject.

The frozen flier shrieked in shock,
fleeing like a squirrel.
The near miss against the flame
had taught it a new moral.
Thus did go on, long after,
their never ending quarrel.

The stars were white, the sky was black,
the orb of flame was near,
the warriors both were here to fight
for what they held so dear;
to look upon this sight 'twas hard
not shed a bitter tear.