Such a quiet little dragon. So shy, so timid. Surely you are hiding something. Those kind eyes under the hood. They see far more than others. They see beyond the horizon. Yet you remain so quiet. Doing only what you should, rather than what you want, You keep within the shadows. You work from behind others. Never taking the glory nor the fame. Very seldom do you celebrate. Humble little dragon. Why do you always hide? You are just as clever as the Phoenix And just as capable as the Dragon. Yet you remain a humble Little Dragon.
Flower of the Slums
Under the light of a broken church. A flourishing garden bathes in the rays. Tended to by a visage of beauty. She shines brighter than the sun. In the gutter of these slums. A flower still blooms. The scent of lilies follows her As she sweeps over the rubble, they call home She brings with her a magic Magic that is not for humans to behold Magic that can cure the most grievous of wounds Magic that can comfort the most broken She is a daughter and a friend A lover and a mother sometimes too She meets so many and loves them too But she is fleeting Like the flowers she tends Cherish her so and protect her well For the Flower of the Slums still blooms here
Midsummer Prayer to Sif and Thor
We’ve come to hail the God Thor! God of the Storms and rain. God of strength, protector of both Humankind and the Gods! And to hail the Goddess Sif! Goddess of the Golden Hair, who blesses the farmer’s field with a bountiful harvest. Goddess of the gentle hand and the patient mind. We hail You both Thor, we ask this Summer Solstice for Your blessings of strength and will to survive and prosper through the season. We ask that You bring the summer rains to these sun-drenched lands. We ask for protection from the harshest of seasons we live in. Sif, we ask this Summer Solstice for Your blessings of patience and the fortitude to navigate the hardships we may face during the season. Bless all that we plant and intend to grow, may it be crops, passions or ambitions. Hail Thor and Sif! Great and powerful, kind and compassionate we hail You both this Midsummer!
Prayer to Laufey for Inner Child Healing
Leafy and green. Soft and gentle. Kind and patient. Your healing is special. For it is not the physical kind Nor is it of the spirit. You heal the child. Your gentle hand guides us who are wounded. You restore our inner innocence. Like a mother, Your love unconditional. Like a sister, Your support unending. Like a grandmother, Your wisdom boundless. You take us by the hand and teach us. Teach us how to love ourselves. Teach us how to love others. You help us to be kind to our inner child. For that child is still very fragile and new. Still in need of love and attention. You love us no matter what. Love us like the mother we always needed. Love us like the grandmother we always wanted. Your healing is special. It is an inner healing like no other. A healing that some of us reject. Leafy and green You are. Soft and gentle Your touch is. Patient and understanding You are.
Serpent’s Wrath
As the oceans rage and roar. Thunder shakes the skies and lightning flashes over the waves. Underneath the depths unknown to man, a secret rage builds. A great and mighty Serpent stirs the waves. He thrashes under the darkened sea, Creating wave after wave of black terror. They crash together with thunderous roars. Tearing asunder any ship that has the unfortunate fate, Of being caught adrift in the Serpent’s fury. The Serpent’s body begins to break the surface. His scales shine like steel. His eyes glow like fiery embers. Searching for His vengeance. For He was cast away like unsightly vermin. Hunted for no other reason than game and fame. Anxious for the final days. Where He will clash with Thunder itself, And take revenge on the one who hunted Him. Even if victory is fleeting, His fangs will reign supreme. As He will have had the last laugh. For the Thunder God lays dead.
Prayer to Sif
The golden fields that sway in the wind. Like the hair that flows around You. You bless the fields as You move through them. You are the rays of sunshine, that blankets the fields. You are the gentle rainfall, that sprinkles the crops. With each step You take, Your blessings make the fields fertile. With each step You take, springs forth the nourishment we need. With each step You take, You ensure we live another season. Those who honor You by caring for these fields Are blessed and protected by Your hand. But those who would seek to poison it, will feel Your wrath. You bring growth and renewal to those who plant them. You bring harmony and happiness to those that seek it. The Goddess of Golden Tresses. Your presence is ever comforting. You protect our fields and keep them fertile. You protect the soil that allows us to cultivate. In turn, we should respect and honor You. So that we may enjoy our blessings Until our web has ended.
Dearly Beloved – Destiny Trio
Young boy, whose destiny is cradled in light. You stand at the precipice of fate, time and time again. You wield your light of innocence like a weapon. Unlocking every heart like a door. You are Dearly Beloved. Young girl, whose destiny is intertwined with the hearts of others. You wait at the edge of the shore. Waiting for your memories of love to return. Hoping against fate to see them once more. You are Dearly Beloved. Young man, whose destiny is shrouded in darkness. You fight to keep those demons at bay. Stoic and strong, yet kind and soft. You only wish to see your beloved hearts again and hold them away from the dark. You are Dearly Beloved. Dearly Beloved, Children of Destiny. Never lose your hope even as the dark creeps in. Your light will shine and guide you back home. Back into each other’s arms once more. Dearly Beloved.
Mourning Tears
With this broken heart, I cry. I cry for something that will never return. I cry for myself, for I will never be the same. These tears are mourning for who I was. For whom I wanted to be. For the years that have been stolen from me. The mourning never ends. There are times that it feels fleeting. There are times it feels surreal. Yet nothing seems to stem the grief. Not the love of family. Not the support from friends. So, I cry alone. Mourning who I used to be. Before all the pain and the pills. Before I as broken in two. I cry for the old me. For she had so many dreams she wanted to achieve.
Are You lonely, Wanderer?
I spoke to an old wanderer today. I asked him this: “Who are you?” He answered, “I am an old traveler.” I spoke to an old wanderer today. I asked him this: “Why do you travel?” He answered, “The world is vast. There is always something new to learn.” I spoke to an old wanderer today. I asked him this: “How long have you traveled?” He answered, “Since old Aurgeimir became the foundation of your world.” I spoke to an old wanderer today. I asked him this: “Do you not tire?” He answered, “I do. Will you spare a bed?” I took in an old wanderer today. I gave him a bed and meal. And he gave me his company. I spoke to the old wanderer. I asked him this: “Are you happy?” He answered, “I am content.” I spoke to the old wanderer. I asked Him this: “Have you ever loved?” He answered, “I have loved some, and am loved by many.” I spoke to the old wanderer. I asked him this: “Are you lonely?” He did not answer. I spoke to the old wanderer. I asked him this: “Do you have a home?” He answered, “I belong nowhere.” I spoke to the old wanderer. I asked him this: “Are you lonely, because you belong nowhere?” He answered, “A wanderer naturally belongs nowhere.” I spoke to the old wander. I told him this: “you now have a home to rest, when you tire of being lonely.” He did not answer. The old wanderer spoke to me. He said this: “I will gladly return for your company.” I answered, “I will be honored to host you again.” The old wanderer spoke to me. He told me: “I will return your kindness, friend.” I answered. “I only want your company.” The old wanderer spoke to me. He said this: “like me, you belong nowhere.” I could not answer. The old wanderer left without another word. I knew who that old traveler was. He blessed my lonely home.
Wings of Black
On wings of black. They soar through the sky. Circling the Nine Realms. Chasing the winds far and wide. Their caws crying out. To whoever will listen. For they bring back hands that will worship their master. They sit upon the shoulders of a transient cloak. And watch and listen to what surrounds them. Waiting patiently for their next meal. Waiting for the body of the next man. To fall upon a spear, for that sweet cadaver, Will be their nourishing meal. Their caws are a delightful melody to the ones who’ve won. But sinister to the ones standing opposite. They circle and circle, waiting to bring the report to their master. On wings of black, they soar. Always back to their master’s shoulders, For they are ever faithful to their One-Eyed lord.
The Midgard Wyrdo 