Courtesy of Others ~
How the Gods Call
A throng gathers to hail the old gods with hearty boasts.
Through a thicket folks fare to feast from far and wide,
No well-ridden road reveals the way, yet we come.
A motley crew we seem to be, coming in ones and twos, and twos and threes.
Who's to tell how the gods call home their far faring folk?
Who on the roadside can stand and roar yae or nae?
Who can ken what goodly thoughts stir in the minds of gods,
or gaudily gainsay their calling when heard again in the world of men?
Neither can one be kinfolk unless bound by blood and bone,
nor can one be a faithful friend unless by the test of time proven true.
but who among us can deem another's offering is too weak?
Or doom as too frail one's fellowship with the gods of eld?
The last elder recalling the folkway has long since quit the earth,
An age gone by since our many tribes were broken and re-forged,
since hofs were razed and golden tafl pieces scattered in the dirt,
No surprise then that we should be shocked by each other.
How the gods call home their wayfaring folk, who's to say?
But it won't be I who stands in judgment on this day.
I see plainly in your eyes that the ancestors live among us even still.
And that you're sitting at the bench means you found your way.
And for that I am glad. Wit ye still more, or what?
Dan Ralph Miller
Heartfelt Heathen Hip-Hop
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