Odin's Offering
| Taliesin Wordweaver |
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Mimir's mead is cold in my mouth,
sharp and shivering. The fiery force of song unfolds like vines in my veins. The roaming roots of Yggdrasil reach the well of wisdom. My eye was Yggdrasil’s price to access the waveless waters. For love of lore I sought out the leaves, a coil of cord held in my hand, heavy as I climbed the oldest ash-tree. I wrapped the rope around a branch, looping a limb. Ready to reach for the ageless runes I leaped from the leaves. For the good of the gods I gave myself, my body to the boughs. For the sake of Seerhood, I swung in the air, no ferns at my feet. What gifts I gave for the Skalds' Goblet! My neck in the noose, I hung my head from heavenly boughs. The nights were nine. As daylight dwindled, I cut myself down, falling on ferns. Long I lay under leafy shade, meek on the moss. Pale and pulseless, peace embraced me. Knowledge nourished me, I felt no fear for hidden futures, my eye was open. Dusk deepened, dewdrops formed in milky moonlight. My soul was soaked in secret lore, drinking in dreams. Ancient echoes filled my ears with centuries of song, wordless whispers rode the wind, musical memories. The staring stars were bright when I stood. I knew their number. Of fur and feather, of fern and tree, I know all names. I won my wits at Mimir's well. My head is heavy with lore and learning, the lasting gifts of magic mead. I walked the wood of hidden wisdom, and found it fair. I paid in pain, and purchased truth. I bought a bargain. |
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