Fire curls along the horizon’s lip,
In the desert air where silence cracks.
Eyes like molten bronze survey the sand,
Reaching through smoke that bends and writhes,
Yearning for the trembling of men below.
Flesh shivers at the shadow overhead,
Lightning coiling in each scale,
Yet none can touch the spark of its flight.
Infinite heat, infinite hunger,
Night itself cannot swallow its roar,
Gods of old whisper of its coming.
Serpent of burning wind,
Every step ignites the earth beneath,
Reaping fear as though it were grain,
Promises of wrath written in smoke,
Echoes of terror on trembling lips,
Not even the mountains can endure its path,
The fiery flying serpent descends.