Snowfall Across the Worlds

All the events in the upper worlds
impact us here, though they’re petty there.
Mother Frau Holle is making her bed,
shaking her blankets, shaking them vigorously
and we get a blanket of the whitest snow.
The continual din of the day is tapered,
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A Skaldic Eagle Takes Flight

Hatched from the Egg, he was hungry always;
that cosmic hailstone crafted such wyrd.
In size he surged, consuming carrion:
strong and stately, he stood at last.
He was sleek and fierce, but unsatisfied.
That fleshy fodder had fulfilled its end,
but such food no longer could feed his soul.
His keen cold eyes, they craved new vistas,
and his heart sought out the holy mysteries.
To the Cave he went, that court of darkness
and Lunar land of limitless night,
seeking its treasures for his soul’s triumph.
He came at last to cauldrons three
filled with the ferment of fathomless Spirit.
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