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Baldur's Return
Thus springeth hope of hopelessness and joy of
dread:
When no more standards in the tides of battle sway,
And all the kites of war are idle and well-fed,
Then Ragnarok’s dark gloom is ruptured by a golden ray.
The evil and the good, their dead eyes blind to wonder,
Their weapons useless and their armors rent asunder,
Have won and lost their battle for the Earth.
A new Lord cometh, thence to reign by mirth:
Commanding merriment, His law shall be a song!
And splendid courtiers they, who once were of Hel’s throng.
© Jeva Singh-Anand
Lance and Graal - Pagan Talk Radio with Attitude!
More of Jeva´s poetry on Witchvox
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