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~ By Courtesy of Others ~

World Tree

In the field there is
A tree, a tree so high
That none can see,
The eagle that nests upon
Bough and branch, and
Though he shouts and
Though he keens, he
Has only the slightest
Means to deal with him
That feasts below.

And in a field there is
A tree, a tree so deep
That none can see him
Him that feasts below and
Low, in the dark with beasts
And though he his the largest,
His largess is not largest!
For on the dead and pale
Does this one grow so hale
And he has meager means to
Deal with him who shouts and
Keens above so high that none can
See, atop this mighty, ancient tree.

Betwixt them both and in the middle,
Back and forth like hands upon my father's
Fiddle, does he run and does he carry, insult
To injury, words so harsh, words to harry
And he is but the messenger, leading slight
To light and keen to feast and beast to bird
And though this word he carries now, is darker
Far than any he has ever carried, he is the barker
Of the harried, the one who rushes up and down,
To the eagle and the dragon of such renown!

And in a field there is a tree,
So high and deep that non can see
The eagle that perches on bough and
Branch, and though he shouts to he
Who runs, his words are clouts to he
Who funds his belly on the dead, and
Tears the meat like sweet, sweet bread
Their feud, their hate will never end
Till Surt's black fire does descend!

Freki 3/31/2005

Freki can be found on Beliefnet - Pagan/Heathen Spiritual Poetry & Prose Board.

Image: Carlshamns Commersen (www.commersen.se)

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