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Runes In Stone

Runes in stone and ancient bones
of kings long dead and gone

Moonlit nights with fires alight
guard against the wind's cold bite

Maidens fair with golden hair
dance for us in the fire's glare

These grey stone walls hold festive halls
with mead enough for one and all

In purple robes sits a warrior old
telling stories of dead comrades bold

Snow falls light all through the night
and still the dawn is far from sight

Wolves howl low as winter winds blow
as far above the northern lights glow

Of mead we've drunk deep and finally we sleep
so soundly in this ancient keep

Eric Wolfsbane

Originally published in Sacred Earth Journal Volume 5 No. 1, Fall 1993

Heathen Poetry Corner of NYMAS (New York Metro Asatru Society)

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