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Battle-Drunk Berserkers
Suffocating consciousness has fled;
Battle ecstasy has filled its stead.
Hazard is from caution's clutch a haven.
Churning earth is turned a shade of red;
Corpses animate in melees shed
Globs of blood to glut the wolf and raven.
Free from fear's fist yet at its heart,
Breath-expiring blows are but new starts:
Lofty lusts enact we newly nightly.
Glory thwarts the norns' annulling darts;
Realms impervious to pain impart
Cognizance of how to perish rightly.
Swords upon the peaks of plains installed,
Cults confront the fate awaiting all.
Sweet fermented honey subdues sanity.
Killing cuts and thrusts our heart enthrall;
Peaceful lives and deaths our loin appall.
Time erases all our timid vanities.
Taunt the source of terror and despair
Buffered by the blessed skin of bears,
Sober drunk adrenalized appraisers.
Penetrate the spirit's darkest lairs;
Scorn the savage slayer's ruthless glare:
Show him how immortal he has made us.
© Stuart Quartermaine
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives License.
Image: "Berserker Kongshallen", Louis Moe, 1898