Odins-Gift

Father of Fallen, I've fallen for you; Lord of Choosers, I'm choosing too: Trust over doubt You over me Life in death’s Free fall from the Tree Choosing my own Self to be slain Falling towards you Time and again My choice fell on you, So it falls to me To be both your Valr And Valkyrie. © Michaela Macha, Creative Commons License BY-ND

A glove without a hand inside, A puppet lacking strings; A page that is not writ upon, A raven with clipped wings; A fireplace without the fire, A stage without the show; A broken piece of shattered glass, A watch that does not go; A violin without its bow, A ship without a crew; A vessel waiting to be filled: A heart devoid of you. © Michaela Macha, Creative Commmons License BY-ND

Will you walk to me on a road made of air? You can't see me, will you know I am there? Can you do what you have to and go where you must On a tightrope, blindfolded, led only by trust? Will you trust me though everyone says I betray And that you'll be alone at the end of the day? What you do in my name is still on your hands; Will you follow me if you don't know my ends? When you face the abyss for the first time and see How precious the life is you promised to me, Will you reel back, the price now too high? Or willingly fall, should I need you to die? The pain that you suffer - chance, or my will? You know you can't know; will you walk wi

Come to the Well, to the Well at the Tree Come and look deep in its waters, said He And I'll drink with you if you'll drink it with me And the more you drink of it, the more you will see. One cup for the price all who drink here must pay: Once you start to see, there's no turning away. What's seen can't be unseen; the images stay At the back of your eyelids by night and by day. One cup for confusion, the choices you make, Seeing all of the forks in the road you may take; Always aware of how much is at stake On the path that you choose, and the ones you forsake. One cup for the burden of knowing too much, No longer with blissful nescience a

Lie still, close your eyes, and listen. Reach out to me with your heart. I am here. I knew where to find you Because we were never apart. I am here with you in the darkness. I am here with you in the pain. I can feel your soul searching for me To give yourself once again. The moment has come you desired so long, There's a place for you in my hall. Your loved ones will be beside you, And my folk, you shall meet with them all. Make ready to leave your body behind. I need you travelling light. Soon you will wander beside me And you'll never leave my side. Close now, come closer. I claim you In your life, and now in your death. You are mine,

Once upon a time and long ago, Odin was walking under the branches of Yggdrasil when two ravens swooped down and settled upon his shoulders. The raven on his left was white as the mists of Niflheim (for back then, all ravens were white), and his eyes mirrored the clouds. The raven on his right glistened in the sun as the snows of Jotunheim, and looked at him with bright clear eyes. And Odin called the raven to his right Hugin, which is Thought, and the other one he named Munin, which means Memory. As the days passed, Hugin and Munin matched the Allfather’s curiosity for everything in the Nine Worlds, flying around and watching and list

No part of the world I wanted And yet I came to the Tree The pain of my life, I shunned it And yet I bore it for thee, Seeking to understand you, Struggling against the spear Hurt and helplessly hanging Nine nights that lasted years Until I said yes to the suffering, Allowed it to pierce my heart, Thus making my final offering Of the last thing that kept me apart, For my desire to find you Was greater than it all-- And I felt the spear pass through us As the ropes give way, and I fall-- And realized the mystery That we are one upon the Tree That I am you, and you are me And bound and free. © Michaela Macha

Your name Shouted across the battlefield Whispered in the darkness of the soul Written on the forehead of the sage And the heart of the poet Burning in the minds of explorers, inventors and madmen Tattooed into your own Etched in indelible letters Engraved in my soul When all else fades, It remains Shining in darkness Your name. (C) Michaela Macha Creative Commons License BY-ND

A little sparrow felt the need To find the thing called 'air', But though his wish was deep indeed, He knew not how or where. His flight led to a garden patch, And while he rested there, He asked a nice plump veggie, "Sir, What do you know of air?" - "In all my years, feet in the ground, I've never seen this 'air'; A pretty myth to go around, But frankly, I don't care." The sparrow flew above a wood, And while he tarried there, He asked the berries, nuts and fruit About the way to air. The fruit considered it their wyrd To be cut, or put on racks; The nuts assured the little bird That one had to be cracked. Confused, the sparrow flew unt

On a rainy night so boring I heard Munin soundly snoring, I grew tired of my poring Perched above Valhalla's door. "Munin!", screeched I to the ceiling, Sending the poor fellow reeling, "Let's deal out a joke to Odin, One that he'll be falling for - Just one joke, and nothing more." Back from barrow ghost invoking Odin entered, wet and soaking, And I started with my croaking From the dark above the door: "I'm the first and oldest Volva! All my secrets I could tell ya, For the right price I might sell, yeah", And I cawed, "Would you know more?" (He is crazy about lore.) "What!", cried Odin, "Quick, be talking! At the price I