Archon

The Behemoth stirs;

His steps laboured, the time worn limbs
Creak with the rust of a thousand showers,
Left out in the rain for a thousand hours.

Power surges through him,
Stealing kindness before my eyes,
He enters the battle with designs to my demise.

Tooth and nail, the fight is hard,
Blows traded, pain and fatigue run through
Us as we fade- dance to victory but it breaks in two.

Running free and built to last,
Sleek and strong, I move fast, faster
Than he can fathom, my motion only seen after.

I leap upward, the end is nigh,
Stretch the carcass, Crucify.

The Behemoth falls;

Defeated.