HELRUNNER by Herwodis Brusse (1) It always begins with the chill starts at the feet my digits numb bound by hands that pull me down strong but gentle, insistent the eyes roll back and for a moment it feels my lungs are frozen the heart speeds and all drops like anchor plunging the breathing constricts and burns It is like sleeping on a bed of ice Draped in a cloth Once my lips turned blue fixed in a mocking grin Those who were with me that day could not warm the hands they held or recall to my fingers greying the life hue Gone I was comfortable in cold clay looking upwards as I fell I saw not the startled faces but passing shades of all I loved endless evergreen spires reaching to touch the cloudy fingers of the sky. (2) I am in ragged clothes and furs Fine once Jord altered them for me but my shoes are still good for crossing Hel's bridge Wide* and welcoming I will not stay but as a guest There are no screams Just silence like the early morning of a day in the dead of Winter I feel my friend behind me Bird-headed reminder of former days I was young once a new soul but like so many others I trod the dance all Paths of the Dead are familiar to me for I have supped and rested The Jotun maiden greets me Garm rests at her heels The grim maiden formed it seems of living ice with eyes of flint nods her head at me I am a familiar guest dedicant of Odhinn I offered myself as daughter when I was young How I love the Hrafnfadhir No lodging nor bed for I sacrificed daughter of the Grim One, Baldr's father in whose name my business I pursue. I give them a gift and move on the guard's job is never easy (3) Sometimes I see her the Queen of this Realm I tell her of the news above Half-rotting Hel listens and smiles She knows what is done but does not cease the conversation easing back into her chair she smiles. But I move on seeking the one they asked me to find The Halls of the Dead are not so grim as quiet In the distance I see horses a bird flies,switching forms here and there lay hung the remnant banners that decorated the place of Baldr's feast now gently frosted and hung with the embroidered grace of icy nimble hands (4) Here sits a man with another pondering what has yet to come he is not cold but warm his clothes gently faded his beard moves with his words as he tells stoires to those who would rest They still pray,leave offerings,and are heard Some leave this home to move on But I seek the mound woman. Her hair a hoary braid She sits in a tall chair churning butter and singing charms She bids me take a seat as I take up her chore She wipes her hands on her apron pushes back her hair and asks me about all manner of affairs She thinks her later children are lazy They do not leave her enough of a portion at Yule But she loves them regardless of the fact she will chastise them later Just because she is dead,speaks she "doesn't mean I don't enjoy my old gossip". I ask her the questions and she answers "They don't pay you enough". Candid,this Old One. She leaves momentarily returns with a bowl taking up her task she removes the butter and salts it And I am back. I sit up my friends look at me as if I had been gone for days I take up my Runes and before casting say "Next time leave out some butter with the bread." © Herwodis Brusse Herwodis Brusse herwodisb@yahoo.com USA - Friday, November 10, 2000 at 18:18:22 (EST) NAGELSCHIP De zeilen zijn gestreken De lading gedekt Het lichaam al verstorven In de dragondernacht Angst vierde de ondergang In een rivier van bloed Stank draagt het schip zonder naam Een gelofte van verraad Vretend aan uw wortels In de dragondernacht © Willie Veer Thorstein65@hotmail.com Netherlands - Tuesday, November 07, 2000 at 22:23:18 (EST) WALHALLA Er komt iets naar beneden Belichaamd chroom In het water klinkt het teken: Neem en buig Ga en explodeer Je lichaam is kwikzilver Zie niets meer dan mijn oog verrijkt Goud voor onze handen Brons voor ons gezicht Waar bergen drijven Zwemmen goden in het licht © Willie Veer Thorstein65@hotmail.com Netherlands - Tuesday, November 07, 2000 at 22:18:26 (EST) Gokstad To Normandy and Hastings. Battleships swift. Setting up dynasties, zigzagging winds shift. Onward prowing forward... 8th century wonders. Villages plundered. On 30 tons of love- laughing, fighting chieftains... diligently spilling blood. Honoring our King. Woden. Allseeing. © wylie wyliedude@AOL.COM U.S.A. - Saturday, October 21, 2000 at 14:12:16 (EDT) Hail to: the one eyed master! You bless the seas; the Dragon pleased (our vessel faster) Beserker gangs- Fearless. To distant lands... helmet-less. With bloodstained hands and swords held high, We battle cry: 'Hail thy Master of one eye!' © wylie wyliedude@juno.com usa - Saturday, October 21, 2000 at 12:49:46 (EDT) Winter Woden's wolves wildly running over earth over sea the welkin wind-torn white in heaven wild is the storm hunt © Erik - Thursday, October 19, 2000 at 22:49:17 (EDT) Odin’s Call When Fimbulwinter holds the Earth In grim and icy reign, When Loki frees himself at last, And Fenris breaks his chain, Then Heimdal’s horn from Bifrost’s span Shall through the nine worlds ring. Now Odin calls and the warriors rise, When we hear the battlecrow sing! The Midgard Serpent rises up To seek his former prey. While Loki leads the hosts of Hel And giants to the fray. Now let the Aesir ride to war, Their swords to battle bring. For Odin calls and the warriors rise, When we hear the battlecrow sing! Now Odin’s chosen heroes ride With him to Vigrid’s plain. The dreaded day has come at last, But they fear not death nor pain. They fight like gods at Ragnarok, Let swords and axes swing. For Odin calls and the warriors rise, When we hear the battlecrow sing! The fury of that final war, Shall rend the Earth and Sky. The Worldtree falls to Surtr’s flame, And even gods must die. We fight in hope that from its root, A New World yet may spring. So Odin calls and the warriors rise, When we hear the battlecrow sing! So warriors raise your drinking horns, To Odin make your vow. To die with weapons in your hands, And to Valhalla go. To fight and die at Ragnarok, Will be the best of things. For Odin calls and the warriors rise, When we hear the battlecrow sing! © Barbara Bowen BJBowen@att.net USA - Monday, October 16, 2000 at 21:19:13 (EDT) Returning...through the misty dawn I go to visit Othinn The Wolves eagerly guide to our place at the table. In the Great Hall Ancestors met Friends and Kin Another time Another win. Back where I belong among those who care. With the help of the Wolves again I'm there. Rik Pfaelzer rikwolfandraven@yahoo.com USA - Friday, June 16, 2000 at 17:36:06 (EDT) Call to Thor Great Thor the Thunderer! Warder of life, Waker of Lightning, Thrice mighty Thurse-queller Of Earth Mother the Ase-son, Allfather's Red Aetheling, Holiness and Hallower, Woe of the World Serpent, Wain-God and Wind Rider: Our greatest blot and blessing, To help, in Midgard's holding Against foes of frith and freedom, You, Lorride, Lord of Mjollnir! Thanks to You, Thor Well do You ward us, Bring we gladly brimming meadhorns Your thirst to quench, Thunderer Gift to You, God of Storms Our life, love and laughter, That you ever them enjoy, For in grith grow we truly Warded by Woden's Son! ©Óðindís 2000 Thundrune USA - Monday, June 05, 2000 at 12:39:44 (EDT) Fast benhuset byggdes på bräcklig grund, fick jag av den Höge en härlig bot: den blodiga brygden som berget gömde, som dvärgar gjorde och jättar ägde, tills Valfadern listigt vann den åt andra. Målrunor brusa i mjödkärlets djup, hågrunor lysa på hornets rand, sånger och sagor med svearnas tunga klinga igen med kraft genom världen— sällan får man en fagrare gåva av skaldernas vän, av Valhalls drott. Jag tackar dig, Oden, för trösten du skänkte! © Ingeborg S. Nordén runelady@chorus.net - Thursday, January 13, 2000 at 00:25:39 (PST) Frejskvädet: en sista sång (Den här dikten riktade jag mot en god kristen vän som studerar nordiska språk som jag gör. Vi tycker mycket om varandra och har en hel del gemensamt, men han gillar inte att jag "envisas" i att förbli asatroende.) Svithjods gudar och seder stå mig närmare hjärtat än Judalandets. Jag bryter mig aldrig från odaljorden, från grunden som skapats av Gaut i forntid. Om landet ändå i lågor förgås när min vän stupar på Vigrids fält, så dör jag tillsammans med svearnas minne. Ej lever jag gärna och lider av glömskan! Jag granskade noga din Guds forna ord innan jag vigdes åt vanernas hövding: ej var dess lära om landets öde det enda som fick mig att ändra min tro. Ändå skall jag följa Frej intill döden-- jag ber dig ej glömma den Gud som du valt; ej hånar jag honom, ej heller din tro. Vänner förbliva vi, om vägarna än skiljas! © Ingeborg S. Nordén runelady@chorus.net - Wednesday, January 05, 2000 at 14:51:43 (PST) Bloodstained snow --- and raven's laughter Women mourn --- the fall of kings Wolfwork's wages --- paid in full. © joe crow crowboy-9@worldnet.att.net USA - Thursday, December 09, 1999 at 01:29:30 (PST) The Fruit of Idhun (Kenaz) Barefoot on dewed grass in her secret orchard, Shining like gold in the Sun's early glow, Carries her cargo to halls of the mighty, Feeds the fire-apples to ward off the snow. (Gebo) Who gains from her gift? Just the gods of the north lands? Just those whom she chooses, or those in her care? All gain when they touch those whose breath she rekindles - The spouse and the patron their energy share. (Ingwaz) Casket of apples - full of her magic, Each apple holding the seed of its son, Every seed holding a new tree within it, Every tree bearing the fruit of Idhun. © Stormerne stormerne@anglo-saxon.demon.co.uk UK (East Anglia) - Saturday, December 04, 1999 at 00:26:21 (PST) Last Offering The wind in the willow plays haunting tunes It whispers my name in forgotten runes It whispers my name through the leaves the tree A twig is falling and I know it’s for me © Hadding - Sunday, October 24, 1999 at 08:45:47 (PDT) Kampfruf Siegvater gebe mir die Kraft Pulsierend und fließend durch Blut und Schaft All die Erschlagenen, Opfer seien Dein Soll der Sieg heute unser sein! Schleudere grimmig dein Speer In die Reihen des feindlichen Heers Sende deine Töchter so wild Walküren mit Speer und Schild Walvater, Dir will ich Körper schenken Wotan Herr der Toten und Gehängten Uns rasend wie Warge mache Schenke uns den Sieg, die Ehr' und Rache! Widar Widar18@hotmail.com Germany - Friday, October 22, 1999 at 18:16:02 (PDT) 10/13/99: wodhrafnbok. Much wot I, as I fell back from that place; My trunk turned dry and hoary white by the milk of Iord's bones. By that one drought with all my gram from the Gjallarhorn; I was brought many times to the song of the ancient horn's cascade. I gained rede from the alvis ship of munin's fjord; Peirced and raining raven's beer. I traded fairly for Havaherja's eye. © Wodhrafn 10/7/99: IN THE GROVE In the grove at night a gale was rising - growing in might by every minute Branches were shaking breaking falling - blown away into darkness and mist The storm sang a song strange but not fearsome - stern was the tune and never changing Two horses I swear I heard in the shadows - hounds were barking, and terrible sounds Then I stumbled and fell, eyes wide open - eternally frozen but filled with desire Ten legs I could see light was spreading - life and death were of no importance And like shields of fire were shining three eyes - I shivered anxiously trembling and crying In the fields I woke up feeling healthy and strong - feeling the mark he had left on my breast © by Hraefnwin   10/1/99: To the One Eyed God I pray As I raise my sword unto the sky Sig-Fadhir take this day And choose my soul if I should die! Chorus: And the battle round me rages on, Bright Shield has chosen me I scream aloud o'er the valkries' song As Bright Shield embraces me I close my eyes to the dimming light Bright Shield is lifting me And I'll drink in Valholl to Odins might Where Bright Shield has carried me. For kin and Kindred ever fight Though Shadow-Skuld would see me dead I stare at Sunna's setting light As Odhinn's spear flies o'er my head Chorus With the chosen-slain in Odhinn's hall I deeply drink Odhroerir's mead And off the glistening spear-made walls Echoes true, inspired rede! Chorus (x2) © John Cyr 9/20/99: From edge of far reaching ocean, Lost in a sea of indulgence, I came to whitness the Gods' playgrounds. There I found myself. No different from the gods, except that I could feel fear. After a rest I swept my gaze into the morning sun and was blinded by the beauty of respect for they who went before believing immortal. 9/7/99: Trygvald saga del 1 För länge sen fanns en mäktig man, Trygvald Lindorm var hans namn. Han firade blot som man bör, så som inga svear längre gör. Varje midvinter uti asarnas heliga lundar. Till Tor offra han sina finaste ollon svin , till Frej sitt bästa honungs vin. Men till Odin gav han söderns trälar. Varje midvinter uti asarnas heliga lund. Trygvald var en mäktig man båd stor och stark. Han var vis likt Odin, Modig likt Tyr, ja han var listig som Loke. Ingen man var hans like. Han såg sig själv som av Odins ätt. En krigare på ett gudomligt sätt. Ja, han skulle ensam kräva asars rätt. Men så som ni kanske vet, går högmod före fall. så kom och lyss till min saga. © Andreas Karlgren 9/2/99: The Ash I’ll be bound to the ash Where the horse loves to roam By the ash of his master I’ll be brought back home On a pyre of ashwood I’m ordained to burn For of ash I was made To the ash I’ll return © by Hangi 8/24/99: DIALOGUE (the Offering) I was sitting on a root of the ash When she approached Glancing like a sunray at midnight HER HAND TOUCHED MY EYES And she asked "Now, are you strong enough" "I am", I replied "You know the gift" "I know" And I stood up, leaning against the tree "Well, do you believe?", she asked "I don't believe", I said, "I KNOW" .... I felt the heat and cried in agony And I felt the power rise And ecstasy And the presence of GOD AS HER HAND TOUCHED MY EYE © Hildisvin 8/11/99: Siegfrieds Tod Drohend glänzt des Speereisens Spitze. Ein Schrei. Rötlich fließt das Wasser der Quelle. Vorbei Ist der Traum von der Herrschaft Von Ruhm und Ehre und Reich Er starb um Welschgoldes Willen Und wurde den Göttern gleich Liberator haud dubie Germaniae © Tusk-Shaker 8/9/99: Jag ber dig Frej, freda grödan. Låt ej frosten frysa. Låt ej Muspel fräta. Jag ber dig Frej, Främja frodig fruktbar växt, Fram till löv av fröjd. Frejfrände 7/29/99: Civilis’ prayer before battle Völva helga vina Hrafntýs Hava mær moð gefi Raiði smíði reginsvein Beztr fríðla freyja Óðins Heil mer gefi © Hrafndísar vinr 7/23/99: Hail Her The Hawk, She feeds Her Young Hail Him The wolf, The Things He has sung Hail Her The Salmon, swimming well Hail Him The Crow, for secret's never tell'd Hail Her The Bear, She wits of Doors Hail Him the Owl, He also wits of Doors Hail her The Earth, She bore Us all Hail Him Mankind, Holy can never fall! By Berwalt Ingwodin 7/18/99: Der Steuermann Giftig strömen die Dämpfe des Unheils Durch tödlichen Schnee und durch Eis. Düster verdecken Wolken die Halle Und warten auf Hellas Geheiß. Zu ersticken den Tag, Wolfszeit naht Und der Edlen Verderben. Beilzeit, Schwertzeit, Windzeit. Flammen verzehren Gottes Sohn, Die Tränen waren vergebens, Denn der Steuermann wartet schon. (Laukaz Othalan Kaunan Ingwaz) © Berhtazgrimaz Hrabanazthewaz 7/18/99: Twelve Nights Twelve we are Singing and Dancing Praising in Fury Twelve Nights long Twelve we are Raging and Screaming Turning in Ecstasy Twelve Nights long Twelve we are Bright glancing Masks Brown fury Bearcoats Twelve Nights long Swirling and Turning Raging and Flying Ekstasis Thirteen we are... (c) Berchtwald Hrabanwolf 7/10/99: Wildes Hunt Deorc bist niht---deocra séo dryht, þa þurh nihtes wolcnu rídst---wulfas bí hire síde, Hunt næfre endst---mid hundas næfre ácwelð! Wes hal hunt---wes hal huntas, wulrful bist hire dryhten---Woden sigefæder. Gegange him sláwlic---Petersilie on hond, Mid hunt þu meaht faren---geond fæger nihtes lyft, wulrful bist hire dryhten---Woden wundorfæder! Dark is the night---darker the band, that thru the skies ride---wolves by their side, the hunt that never ends---with hounds that never die. Hail the hunt---hail the huntsman! Glorious be their leader---Woden victory father, approach them slowly---parsley in hand, with the hunt you may ride---across fair night skies, Glorious be their leader---Woden wonder father! Swain Wodening, 1998 November 6/30/99: Kumbr hifrøya til Korpgarð æigi bætri, þan byi raðr. IkimaR risti runiR þessaR. RavnaR Oðindis systiR goð. 6/25/99: RUNE idea of daylight RUNE mystery and smell of midnight RUNE found in a ritual of old unlocks stories never told RUNES whisper upon the wind from deep mist they roar show no fear shed no tear with ability open the mighty door unheard secrets come to mind inspiration/transformation gives new sight to the blind ecstasy in the name whisperers whispering in the candle flame w/the gesture of a hand learn sacred secrets rhyme's of wyrd In a Holy Grove they strove & thought strove toward a shining plain they thought & then they talked they spoke of things that bring great rains reaping a harvest of sorrow things themselves that are dreadful cries tearfilled eyes sound of a child's no tomorrow & at that same time be joy life piece of mind comfort for those in need they spoke of things that are creation/destruction things that are everything & nothing everything in nothing they talked then they thought -(c)1992 by Gazure Ravenskald 6/23/99: VALKNOT Valknot, nine-fold fetter mine, no solumn oath caused ye to bind, nor taufr carved to make ye wind about my life-breath's lair, but that which I could ne'er forswear: Love came freely to twine ye there. Óðindís 6/23/99: From the drunken oblivion, the blinding passions of dizzy revelers caught up in the whirlwind of Life, ever have I turned, pulling a hood down to hide my face, turned to the hungry darkness of wild woods alone, because unsatisfied with the feast laid before me, so gladly enjoyed by others, but only ashes in my mouth; turned and felt the bite of icy winds, of the purity of loneliness, of the inhumanity of desire for the Infinite, of desire for you. I have always preferred your company, Wanderer in the forest of my soul, Luller to sleep, Sender of dreams, I would rather drink and dance with you, Hidden One more fleeting than the wind, than any more tangible being though solid and sure in Middle Earth. Óðindís 6/17/99: Over mountains, moors, hills and through woodlands you wander, the hunter with the grey cloak and silent footstep. His eye is sharp and his tooth is keen, he howls with joy at all the slaughter His children sing as they bring the guests to the feast. 6/16/99: Untar heriun tuem Zwei Krieger stritten im einsamen Feld Ward der jüng’re vom Blute gerötet Der Sieger ihn nun in den Armen hält Hat den Gegner im Zweikampf getötet Hört den Wehruf des Gotenheeres nicht Sieht nicht nahen die feindlichen Boten Unter ihnen ein alter Degen spricht: „Ich bitt’ um den Leichnam des Toten. “ Da grimmig erwidert der düst’re Held „Und erkennst du nicht ,Heime, den Recken?“ Ein dumpfes Ahnen den Reiter befällt Doch auf einmal erstarrt er vor Schrecken. Stumm deutet er seinen Knappen zu gehn Denn schon kommen des Siegreichen Scharen Und sinnend muß er in das Antlitz sehn, Das nicht gesehn ward seit dreißig Jahren. Wendet sich um und mit zitterndem Ton spricht er nun krampfhaft folgende Worte: „Verflucht, wer der Sippe tut diesen Lohn!“ Und er flieht von dem schändlichen Orte Der Himmel birst, und Donner widerhallt Als die Krieger den Holzstoß errichten Und dräuend des Alten Wehruf erschallt Hinauf zum Sitz der heiligen Lichten. Nun trägt er den Körper zum Leichenbrand Den gefallenen Jüngling zu ehren Der fiel durch des Vaters eigene Hand Zwischen den beiden Heeren Eofor 6/15/99: Hel Who could find her in the palace of Ice In the halls of exile far beyond The oceans of lonliness Eyes like steel Glancing blades Mirrors of silence Never smiling Never weeping A drop of dew in her eyes Would make us safe and sound And the Lord returned HRABANWIN 6/10/99: In the Grove of the Sebnanez I am the spearhead Flashing in the fire Whisteling in the winds Gliding through the gale Swaf-daeg has sent me To swallow the sweat In the heart of the hallowed The mead of the man I am the spearhead Swaef-daeg has sent me Fjölnir has formed me The wolf takes the victim by Bright Bristle 6/8/99: Shield Maid's Song From the deep shadows of the forest of my life Ever have you watched And smiled, though I knew not; You have hidden, let me go my way Wolf God, but not alone. Hroptr, how the uninitated fear you As you move grim and dangerous Among dark trees, Not subject to societal laws The ultimate threat To complacency and cowardice. Thou, Tempter into Madness, Vortex into which I willngly fall, Make my soul a sword, Full wrought by Wod, That I may survive your patronage, Heroic and defiant Until the funeral smoke carries me, most blessed of beings to bliss and service: forge me into a blade well suited to your use, Havi, Herran, Herjafadhr! Awa Alu AAAAZZZZ Óðindís 6/8/99: As you wander still strange ways alone among your own folk, and as you breathe as flame within my darkling barrow, I raun to you as stars slowly turn over my buried sleep from afar your arms'chill breeze enfolds me so lightly, yet bone deep, as from within: Death, below the stars are those who look up; for even in the heart of stone you have placed a seed of love so rare. Óðindís 6/8/99: In some life did I willingly die pierced by your spear, hanged on the tree? Or in battlefield prayer once dying sigh your hidden names to be set free? Did I to Woden fly as my fighter screamed through icy air to fall from warring skies in flames? And if I dare every fear, Grim, what shall I gain? "Though terrible mede be paid thrice be sure there remains further sacrifice: Thus is Asgard attained. But when you come to me it will seem a gift, not a price." Óðindís 6/8/99: Companions born in ale will you often fail Lindenboard battle weary Mailcoat and Helm Brightedge and Neck-greedy These companions I hold better than many a warrior has known STARKULFR 6/3/99: I was screaming, and the scream filled all the air and then froze And in its frozen time I lay slit open Watching myself from within myself And around me, within me, beyond me She was Knotting, sewing, staring, singing Her form slipped and twisted in my awareness Sometimes she was a young girl kicking up rainbows from bright water Sometimes she swam with the otter and her hair filled with gold Sometimes she was the slow breath within a rock Always she was older than time And her eyes never blinked or changed Fierceness without anger Determination without will She wove in me And into her weaving she sang spells Read the complete poem 6/1/99: Der nordwärtsgerichtete Baum Bald schwinden alle Sorgen Im Osten glänzt der Morgen Es ist alles nur ein Traum Was ist aus mir geworden Hier bin ich, Blick nach Norden Und der Wind fährt durch den Baum... (Woutangelt) 6/1/99: Wer hauchte Menschen ihn ein? Wer hellte den Blöden den Blick? In deinem Schutz scheinen sie stark, durch deinen stachel streben sie auf: du reizest sie einzig, die so mir Ew'gen du rhümst. Fricka Die Walküre R.Wagner 6/1/99: Even if in Hela's Halls I dwelt Balder would be there, Bright Comforter Beloved Son, Sustainer of Hope: Even at Death's hearth, deep in Earth, Part of Oðinn's Soul secretly dwells, And of this and more is He ever mindful. Óðindís 5/30/99: Huginn og Muninn fljúga hverjan dag Jörmungrund yfir; óumk eg um Hugin að hann aftur né komi, þó sjáumk meir um Munin. Grimnismál 5/22/99: Hesa skrin högt över gården. Svävande svarta spejare. Vrånga mot vråken. Harbards hugfulla vänner. korp@telia.com 5/14/99: Volkers Lied Der Wolf hat die Sonne verschlungen. Feuer lodert in der Halle, züngelnd lecken tausend Flammen Und der Rauch verschlingt uns alle, Die aus fernem Westen kamen, hält es nun in seiner Kralle. Schwach und müde, schwere Glieder, nichts als Stolz ist mehr geblieben. Niemals sinke ,Schwert, hernieder! Keine Klage hörst du ,König, keine Träne netzt die Lider. Und die Lohe frißt sich weiter, durch den Stein und das Gebälk. Doch von ferne hör’ ich Reiter! Kaum ein Mann, der sich noch regte, als das Dach zu Boden fällt. Da, jetzt seh’ ich Gottes Mägde. by R.W.T 5/10/99: Das Christentum empfingen wir Die neue, bess're Welte Doch unsere Leiber blieben hier Auf Verdens rotem Feld Raginmund 4/29/99: To Aswulf I hear your voice carried on the rising wind I feel you near in my times of doubt Forever somewhere between a waking moment And the threshold of a dream The feel of your fur a comfort As in my dreams we ride the hunt Your truth speaking eyes A window to the worlds beyond With a grin you show teeth That put the whitest snowdrifts to shame You see me in all moods and colours And never once lose that knowing spark Which knows that soon I will regain my reason My valiant companion You tear through the shadows Dragging them down Claws like knives you rend them to pieces Then smirk in triumph As you race to run with the Forest King And when the curtain Night descends Sing your song Carried on the wings of the Four Winds ~Herwodis Brusse herwodis@asatru.zzn.com Post a Poem / Lägg till en dikt New submission page, July 24, 2003 Poetry on Woden's Harrow Home