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It is a difficult thing
for the dead to move freely
amongst the living.
Eddies in the blood,
that snarl and tangle wyrd,
extol to memory's hall,
the rhythms of 'me'.
I am that which from those ancient waters rises,
bound in time, fettered to life.
And through the pumping of my blood,
a thousand ancient feuds survive.
I bear within me a kingly crown
hidden well within my blood;
for Woden whispers in my flesh,
reclaiming what has always been His.
Through ordeal of blood and ecstasy, I have bound myself to Him.
Forever thrall, forever bride, forever owned, forever kin.
All my life I dreamed of death- masked, with one glaring eye.
Now I have taken shelter beneath His cloak
with no wish to survive.
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