The Titans’ Tempest

In the heart of night, the heavens roared. As Titans clashed with lightning swords. The storm unfurled its savage might. A battle fierce in the dead of night.

Clouds amassed, an army dark. With thunder’s drum and lightning’s spark. The winds howled wild, a banshee’s scream. Tearing through the midnight dream.

Electric veins split the sky from the ground. A crackling web, a fearsome sound. Each bolt a lance from ancient hands. As if Zeus or Thor commanded the lands.

The earth did quake beneath their rage. A trembling stage, a cosmic cage. Mountains shuddered, forests bowed. Underneath the tempest proud.

Rain cascaded, a silver flood. Mixing with the storm god’s blood. Nature’s fury, raw and pure. An epic tale, a legend’s lure.

The storm raged on, a war untamed. With each strike, the world was named. A testament to powers old. In whispered myths, this night was retold.

Yet as dawn’s light began to break. The Titans’ storm began to shake. Fading slowly into the day. Their mighty battle swept away.

But the earth remembers, deep and true. The night when gods their fury threw. In each storm’s roar, their echoes blend. A timeless clash that has no end.