The Rise of Gods and the Fall of Giants

From icy void, a giant stirred, Ymir, the first, his body blurred. No sun, no moon, no stars to gleam, Just primal frost, a waking dream. Then Auðumbla, the cow of might, Licked salt from ice, with all her light. And from the ice, a god arose, Búri, the ancestor, as legend goes. The Æsir came, with Odin's lead, Gods of battle, sowing seed Of power vast, and iron hand, A ruling force across the land. The Vanir bloomed, a fertile grace, Freyja's beauty, in time and space. They brought the harvest, rich and bold, A story woven, silver and gold. Yggdrasil, the world tree tall, Connecting realms, to heed its call. Asgard above, where gods reside, Midgard below, where humans stride. And Helheim dark, a chilling keep, Where souls are lost, in endless sleep. But shadows rise, a chilling fate, Ragnarök nears, sealed by hate. Giants gather, a fearsome horde, Against the gods, with a sharpened sword. The final battle, light and dark, A crashing wave, a dying spark. The world ablaze, the heavens fall, An ending grim, consuming all. Yet from the ashes, new life will bloom, A verdant earth, escaping doom. A reborn world, a promise bright, After the darkness, comes the light.