Brave and dead and gone away. Yearning for the unexpected desire round the corner on the circle squared. Watching intrepidly.
No hope to be found on the corpse of my epitome!
Truly a thorough blackness has entered my soul, yet all that’s forbidden resides in the disjointed bones covered with golden green moss and been drenched dry at Mymir’s Well. Half way up thru Vanir’s Home in a hallway of sturdy robust Ash & Oak. The three bodies emptied of themselves on a Christian Cross in Muslim garb.
And there isn’t any shame in that. No shame, alas, when a Krist entombed.
Wary in the pickling. Decidedly enamored with the sparkling dust in high places. Stranded like the eagle in the shadows of Yggdrasil, till the day after doom.
This is my Love now gone to the heavens, deceived as should be by the bestial sociatal trappings Loki proffered. My embittered terrestrial & meaty clothing regenerating. Eternal soul steeped in unseen blood and salted flesh.
A resurrected deity. Here in his reign.
The Wind says, go away. The earth rattles, yet the tempest says, go away. And why?
The wind? This or any other world would be just fine! I’ll make a seat in the adamant rock, here. It’ll be mine, for always. My name is written in it. It’s mine all white alabaster. A secret name there upon. My godliness calls to me from within.
And the Maidens will always dance round the Pole. Undermining our naivety and the innocent eyes. Making fools of the little boy tethered inside the warrior lad.
All this is good and bright. Nothing will be shunned! Unless I make but spittle of what were words said ignorantly.
And so be it:
the wind says, go away
but I’ll stay
this great stone is mine, it’s
my Viking blood feeds it all the while.
I give it a Soul. It becomes mine in the hereafter!
It is mine, now.
