Courtesy of Others ~
Before I made the world from Ymir´s body
with my brothers, Villi and Ve,
who may or may not be me
(that´s the trouble with hypostases),
the first giants said:
"There is only ice and fire and the place they meet.
That´s all there is,
the only conceivable order."
Now the earth flowers in all its complexity.
So, know. When dead Yggdrasil grows new shoots,
and Baldur returns,
in whose ear I whispered
(no, I won´t tell you what),
and from the riven trunk,
the parents of future descendants emerge,
blinking at the new sun,
there will be no reiteration
and an unfolding order, unimagined.
When I manifest fully, I will bring your death,
which you await
like bride awaits bridegroom,
kindling wants fire,
drink cries out for fermentation.
not what comes after
(though much comes after)
but the moment of transition itself,
in which I am sovereign.
Maker of bounds, transgressor of limits,
lead all your chances
to that quick terror
to that ecstasy
when noose tightens on the beam
when reed becomes spear,
iron parts rib,
and point crosses perpendicular flesh.
Let me not (Oh, let me!) pray too much.
"Gift calls out for gift."
Is it better to remain ignored
or chance destruction from what is given in return?
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