PÅ TIDENS ENDA VÄG

(Solen kastar bort imman stärker Klarheten.)

 

Årens tankar återvända lika träd vilka lagts att multnas,

länge grävande i färdigblommat och Vinterbonat

att ur markens vishet från Världarnas krav återlämnas.

 

Rotas. En stam har alltid medvind och motvind. Håller fast.

 

Tar upp mer värde.

 

 

 

Tidens enda väg är Stigen där tagna steg tar sitt ansvar

intill uppresta vallar bräddfyllda Löv, Vatten och Vind,

och föga glest är mellan att få trugas med Gudarnas Svar.

 

Är nästgårds nu.

 

Sänder i förtid ner Edert botande kärleksverk

att enligt Naturen omforma våra tillgångar:

 

 

 

Äger ännu hjärtat som vägrat Livet vara ett fuskverk;

och fick höra att Viljan satt uppe i trädtopparna

så slitsamma att nå få överkliva bli till mitt livsverk.

 

Vill till sist med blodet hugga fram Heiliga Vetandets Bro,

finna värdiga Viet vara samlade i vår värld

där vi rastlösa kan hämtas hem till Asgård; sann frid och ro.

 

FORCED WILL CHOSEN

Acknowledging my honour and sweetest high-lineage,

I stop smoothing over my well-deserved nuisance:

 

Scoffing at the revolting; useless to this world,

remaining in solved questions and hardened riddles.

 

Agreeing with truisms and people’s will,

when that fully and gratuitously has been attended.

 

Stabbing dead meaningless opinions!

Axing down bumptious pretences!

Leaving sense against wicked deeds!

 

Gather thoughtful goods:

Know that Truth, Honour and the Rights of Might,

don’t serve our foes as weaponry

as all here now is owned by Viet.

 

Reasons for an honourable Life is Life’s claim

 

Remember that rich owns the Light:

Caring for Life’s Goodness;

path to insight and dearest life value.

 

Truth is our sufficient property.

 

TIME’S BLOOD

SETTING CLEANSED STEPS WITH THE IRON.
BINDING THE CIRCLE ON SUN’S MIDDLE.
FASTENING MIDGARD’S FOUR DIRECTIONS.

A STORM NOW TEARS THROUGH THE NINE WORLDS.

TIME’S STEPS: YGGDRASIL IS OUR TRUTH.
TIME’S BLOOD: LAW, RIGHT AND VICTORY.

HONOUR IS ALL THE MEAT OF WISDOM.
THE GROUND IS OATHBOUND FOR ODIN’S WORLDS.
ASGARD’S CHOSEN IS LIFE’S CHOSEN.

EYE-MEETING (FOR A FRIEND.)

“But say, wouldn’t you let dumbness amuse,
be fooled to lack responsibility for yourself
and be struck dead for the rest of your life
like others? Like a normal funny farm being.”

Seating myself sternly down and answering:

Find here your hardest eye-meeting.

Misled, into qualm and anguish thrown,
stuffed yourself thrall-bound with all that is indigestible.

Do you know that every dumb thing gets your applause,
but scum’s trash is all that scum will beget in return?

Searching inside after something called nothing to express?
Wrapping thoughtlessness around deranged and led opinions?
Foolishly smiling indulgently when impropriety and foulness appear?

Your turbid thoughts now cling after some doubt
in a strained smile fooled away from sanity,
so consider that weak-hearted is wrong
and filth always did harden your ugliness.

You have already enough to suffer from;
that thoughts are counted as your deeds’ freedom
and that need would strengthen or break down,
but it will become an insight of an inner unchanged.

Our foes construct barriers against the Life we do own,
setting in and leading your undignified wrong choices,
wrapping steadfast rotten meek in your “free will’s causes”,
twisting wishful thinking and gnawing down all will and lust,
axing onward your “self-deception” at our lives expenses
there “open-minded” will quickest possible be very shallow
when “acceptance” means to be carved with the defects of others.

It is certain that your inner and outer blemishes are laid brickwork.

Cry my tears for a while,
but now carefully note that you are the cause.

 

A CONFIRMED FATE

Raising up a monument

over an exception in excess and far above,
one who refused to own wrongs, but was robbed for far more

Well, it is clear that Man harbours here; there Worlds see:

“Am after repute active in other places
and that is surely more than a clue hereabout…

The years took me too early inside of current futures
therein true visions lived when near was;
but never really was lived.”

We agree upon refusing the revolting parts of the whole,
so doomed are to us the unwanted: All those coerced roads.

TRACK DOWN THAT THE NIGHTSIDE NOW BELONGS TO OUR DEFENCE
AND OPEN EYES ARE REWARDED WITH GOOD AND TRUTH. TAKE THAT IN!

STRAIGHTEN TWISTED THOUGHTS IN THOSE WEARING BLINKERS WITH HATE!

CRUSH THE LAST CONFIDENCE IN THE TREACHEROUS! FIND HERE THE ANSWER!

… IN LIGHT! Settling my death with my foes death.

… IN DARKNESS! Becoming an avoiding ghost.

… IN LIFE! I am pleased and drunk with victory.

 

WHERE THE DEW NEVER DRIES

It was in a time before silence was altered ―

just as daybreak came walking across the region
while cloudshadows swept onwards ― observing.

And the world set ― in Dumbness; uncountable scars
where excessive junk searched of ways to be charming…

(Myself? Wandered free there the dew never dries
and all of Life’s paths showed forward to Odin.)

We vaguely remembered safety and honestly owned excess,
real life in beauteous honour ― a longing home to Asgard;
to grow well rooted value only Goodness could bid Us.

(Obeying my steps. Leaving the bare ground opened traces
in time before the first snow will return as a threat.)

Skillfully, surely all too well, Truth answers:

“Tear down any seeming solace ― it is venality: Death.

We have foes to correct; to pay our plight, in our sight,
for naught stand more fairer grown than killed lies in life.

Let shatter the nightmareyears. Give Truth to hate and cure.

BE HONOURED! MIGHT AND GLADNESS! SET YOUR LIFE’S ROOT!”


THERE THE DEW NEVER DRIES

RECOVER LIFE’S HEART

Guarding the hours altering; their changes: My prey.

Fogcovered ― AWAKENED!, rising ― Dawning now lifts itself
swiftly roused, opened in the lightsoaked halls in the forest

and all night is missing ― for a moment, ― again.

(Worries bite ― a burden lingers on.)

Wandering up all the Path’s aged, burnt in, yearsteps,

standing upon flowering field islands,
leaving by my withering footprints

and catching torn thoughts ― when spoken my heart clears, ― to remain.

Life’s heart, our hearts; are born matured.

So return, come you who listened, know the qualm cleanhearted;
on hate’s and gladness terms here allowed to tenderly intertwine
with the lighthearted ― maybe sorrowfilled, enlightened Sun’s routes

I am proven ― when your shivers go cold, ― if you wake up.RECOVER LIFE_S HEART