Sleeplessly resting in a fragile hint,

so alike a water circle offers shallowness;

sighted shortly and withheld; so moving



Tracing then the water in the forest-creek down to the river.


Waiting here. Observing with a careful watchfulness.


Counting everything musingly and cultivating my freedom.



Honour is never anything other than right; wise and truthful,

unthinkable to therein search after any hidden motives.



Sleeping safely next to the hillside smith at summer-dawn.


Relief comes when Life again will be enough.


Letting fastidious be me reasonable and healthy.



Opportunities, the now’s possibilities avoided me steadily

and persistently bitterness bites memories sown,

cock-sure and clearly; in benefit for worthlessness



But, I have a prevalent advantage in clearest excess;


I am foresighted on the Holy Path Home to Valhalla.


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