Pearwood lots          pursed in darkness Abide till birthing    brings them forth, Allfather's rune-kerns wrapped in sleep From Wyrd's womb       awakened, Pitched onto linen,    or plucked by nine, Their plot picked      by play of Ur-law As Theal helps them    through the threshold, Midwife to bloodstaves on a stool seated Witnessing the Webs,   and wise becoming, Into that pool         peering Where gazing back      the gift of Grimner Is open to all,        eagre for knowledge, Whatever the plight;   to pull up truth Takes wisdom and wod   and the will to look Into the eye of sooth, with selflessness And without fear,      fully opening: Thus does sight come,  Sath's gift. So men playing games,  a pouch shaking, To try their luck      by tossing tavels, Laughing at benches,   blithe in the meadhall, Proudly take losses,   to the point of need If Wyrd decree;        wiccaning to the will Takes skill and wisdom,or skald's couth: Norns hold the loom    that lots show to men.                            6-9-98

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