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poem
by Sorin
 

Long before me stretched
the stone river, hum of
unseen horses drawing
the landship along, dark
enclosing.

Thoughts drifting as waves
to wash upon the metal
skin that coasts through
air as ships of old parted
the blue life-liquid fair.

Twinkling high stars bright,
clouds as ice, fresh
and pure, floating as on
the fjord in winter's
beginning days.

Manni hidden, but ever
journeying, hidden guide
to watchful travelers
who work the steerboard
in night's depths.

Images come to mind, scenes
playing upon a stage, bragi's
tales and words alight,
of those that came before,
and those that are today.

Images drifting of deeds,
some done, some undone,
that make the folk, paving
the trail through the
wilderness of Wyrd.

Thoughts turning to
friends, and kin, that live
and work many days from
here. Their lives turning,
and sailing ahead.

New life these images give,
of times passed, moments
shared long ago. Fires
and toasts, boasts, and ale
that fettered minds
in days past.

Honor to them
quietly given, within
where the tales of time
hold their sway, and lessons
are remembered.

On the river flows, lights
dancing from unseen gems,
lighting the path of this
noisy sleigh that rides these
unseen waves.

Thoughts turn to new deeds,
names not yet known. With
words and deeds their
fame will grow, many voices
to praise them well.

Names we know not, deeds
undone, those honored well
as we walk on the path, wyrd
calling us beyond Midgard.
Left is the chore and the song
to new voices unheard.

And so into the night, a ship
drifts on, and towards home
it rambles, it's journey long
through many worlds, now
softly at an end.

-Sorin Olson 2/4/02