In a realm before the ticking dawn,
Before the stars had names to claim,
A shadowed sea, unformed, unborn,
Swirled in chaos, wild, untamed.
No edge, no line, no whispered breath,
A void where silence roared too vast,
Darkness reigned, a king of death,
Its reign eternal, meant to last.
Yet from the deep, a tremor stirred,
A pulse of light, so frail, so bold,
A spark that chaos overheard,
A flame that would not bend or fold.
It grew, it clashed, it carved its way,
Through endless night, through formless dread,
Order rose to greet the day,
And shadows shrank where light was led.
From this ancient war was born
All joy, all hope, all gleaming things,
A memory in our souls adorned,
A song the deepest spirit sings.
Too vast to grasp, too old to name,
This feeling hums beneath our skin,
A primal fire, a quiet flame,
The root of all we hold within.
And so, when winter’s grip is tight,
When darkness cloaks the world once more,
We summon candles, stars of light,
To echo what came long before.
With trees aglow, with colors bright,
With gifts to honor what was won,
We celebrate the end of night,
The chaos stilled, the light begun.
(image and poem created with prompts using Midjourney and Grok 3)
spikosauropod 
Leave a comment