The Season has begun, but I did not want to wait until it was over to post this 'old chestnut' of mine.
Yule Musings
Yule is over, but not without thought,
Of
memories bright and not store bought.
On the First of Twelve,
my log burned Red,
Too
early I thought, to retire to bed!
A faining I wanted, to honor the Tide,
In my hallowed space, no
need to hide.
At
this time, honor the Always Past,
Doing in the present, to make it now last.
That Eve's fire burned brighter than ever,
My
soul took flight, free of its fetters.
Was it the flame,
alcohol, or new herb burning,
That
made my soul seek, and wont for yearning?
The
snow, I saw, was crisp and bright,
But no cold I
felt, on this winter’s Night.
The
wind picked up, and howled with rage,
Just like a wolf, bound up in a cage.
In the distance,
along with the wind,
I
heard voices, calling, we are your kin.
In the
lead of this throng, no fat man in red,
But an eight-legged
steed and a thin man instead.
His
hat was large, and flopped it did,
A
patch over one eye, a cover, a lid.
At his side rode two beauties, decked in
gold and blue,
The stars
reflected on them, with sparkling hue.
As they
drew closer, the howling increased,
At the moment, I
thought, my life would cease!
The
One Eyed Leader, sensing my fear,
Looked at me with longing, making me dear.
He spoke to me
softly, as the Host howled its might,
To those unaware, to cower in fright.
My name is
Wodan, the Tru` Northrn’ King,
It is to
my people, real freedom I bring.
He placed
his huge hat, up on my head,
Covered
me full, but I felt no dread.
I was under the
Cloak, how long I’ve no note,
But saw many
things, some worthy of rote.
Ancestors
many, their struggles I witnessed,
Down a long blood line, survival of the fittest.
So many did
come, and presented to me,
I understood,
I was them, and were they me.
I saw the triumphs,
and trials of the past,
Knowing now
secrets, revealed at last.
The hat, then removed, returned to owner’s head,
An arm now
‘round me, with fullness of stead.
The Wheel of the Year turns ‘round and ‘round,
From its’
turning, real Truth can be found.
Wodan spoke
as I woke, from my slumber,
I need your help, to put so much asunder.
But how,
said I, a poor man at most,
Help you,
All-Father, head of Asa Host?
Listen now,
and listen well, he replied,
Even a poor man
has riches, he cannot hide.
Build you a
temple, as Fahrenkrog told,
Within your
heart, and you will be bold.
It is within your
heart that we gods reside,
Brick and
mortar, we cannot abide.
With this boldness of heart, your courage will flame,
Speak one to one, and then none remain the same.
Stand then,
with us, your Oldest of Kin,
Bl`ot and
Sumbel, let the new light in.
Light the Yule
Logs and Bale Fires too,
Practice the Old Ways ,
new life given to you.
But remember, my son, your words, and deeds,
For Urda’s well
threads all, and so the seeds.
My mind drifted slowly, back from All-Father’s words,
Back to my
place, in our strange, weird, world.
In my lap,
a bouquet of flowers blue,
To my
delight, fresh and new.
Are the gods real, you
ask to yourself?
For me you
can put that away on a shelf!
We honored them once; it’s time to honor again,
What are you waiting for, oh
northern soul, a ride on Sleipnir?
First appeared in my book, Beneath Valhalla – Opinions of an Iconoclast copyright @2009
Re-edited for my blog, copyright @2012 Terry Unger
Re-edited for my blog, copyright @2012 Terry Unger
