Ashes Upon The Earth

Once there was a malicious miscreant,

By the name of Typhon,

He roamed the skies,

Scraped the horizon with his venomous claws,

And set out to vanquish the good in the world.

Typhon was a cold-blooded monster,

His vile temper excluded none,

His roaring screech impetrated the Earth,

His red, furling eyes,

Sharper than a thousand needles.

He was conquered,

By a hero so tame and just,

By the name of Zeus,

He was,

A lad that  all could trust,

His brains, his brawn,

a beauty like the dawn.

He was a great god,

Stronger than many,

And when he thwarted Typhon,

He was the greatest hero of any.

So Typhon was enraged,

At his  imprisonment by Zeus,

He planned to steal his thunderbolt,

And leave him in a cell, abstruse.

So he set of in his destruction of the lands,

Ripping innocent seedling trees,  

Breaking them from their bands.

He used the thunderbolt,

Stolen from Zeus,

He skidded of out  his lair,

He left in a jolt.

Leaving pain in his wake,

He scattered ash to the ground,

He made the earth quake.

He tormented the trees,

And when Zeus saw his rampage,

He set out to bring him to his knees.

So he stole after Typhon,

His madness curling,

To end the insanity,

To stop his unfurling.

With wit and bravery,

He stole back his bolt,

With the speed of a young colt.

Aiming his bolt,

He strikes Typhon,

With strength,

And leaves him wincing,

Not shielding his pain,

Completely unconvincing.

Locking Typhon under rock and stone internally,  

He leaves him there,

For all of eternity.

He then sweeps the sky in shades of pink and yellow,

Cleaning up Typhon’s mess down below,

Not to hear a word of Typhon again,

not a single bellow.

Volcano he was left,

He was dormant,

In a state of stale unrest.

His volcanic powers were now dead,

He was now a myth,

A cruel legend,

Or so they said.