Baldur

Baldur the Bright,

Wise and good and kind,

Undone by mistletoe –

Fragrant kiss of death

That touched the cheek

And choked the breath

Of life and left thee withered, empty, blind:

 

How is it that such beauty, truth, and grace

Could fall to a prankster’s trick?

Do idle jests

Decree the falling of the stars,

Or test the right of sun and moon

To keep their place?

 

Did Judas laugh to see his joke

Played out?  To take the bribe

And plant the kiss?

Or was it with a smirk

He took a twist

Of rope,

Or on a snicker

That he choked?

 

A joke that cracked

The pillars of the years

And rent the veil of sky;

The thundered earth

Yawed and yawned

And gave birth to the dead,

While blind he pulled the world

About his ears.

 

But Bifrost’s brightness

Now in ruin lies,

And Gotterdammerung’s

A Present Truth.

The brood of Loki laugh to see thy youth

Gone ghostly gray

With darkness on thine eyes.

 

While Hela croaks

And Fenris gapes with jaws

Wide as all the world,

And the encircling Worm

Constricts his coils and takes

Yet one more turn

Round the raveling roots

Of Yggdrasil;

 

While Jotunheim and Niflheim

Swell with pride and cold,

While wraiths rise white-eyed

From the crumbling mold;

Even now the light above thy brow

Descends and makes its bed

In Hell.

 

A star upon the sea, thy burning pyre

Sinks at last,

Like hopes of dying souls.

The cold and purple ocean

Heaves and rolls,

Its silence huge above

The phoenix fire;

 

Till Lif and Lifthrasir

Jump from the heap

Of ash – the Second Adam

And His Bride –

Whom Witch nor Wolf

Nor Serpent can deride;

And rising in thy light,

They dance and leap.