Absolutely anything
beneath bark's beauty
could conceivably construct
death. Diversely... Days?
Everything enlists
fragile fateless friends for
grasping Ginnungagap's
handless hold.
In icy infinity,
joining jaws
kiss, knowing kennings
lore lost.
Muspelheim's mirages
nudge Niffleheim's Nordic nights,
opening our
perfect pre-personhood pilgrimage.
Quiet! Quickening quells questions
runes resolve
soon
to tell. To try to tell.
Under Utgardr, under
Vanaheimr,
where wyrd
xenially
yawns Yggdrasil's
zealous zenith.