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Literature Text
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
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
Literature
Lexicon
I found my old dictionary today.
The new one is sleek, modern. A quietly efficient affair.
No room for unwieldy clunk, like sentimentn. refined or tender emotion; manifestation of the higher or more refined feelings. or levity n. lightness of mind, character, or behavior; lack of appropriate seriousness or earnestness..
This old one, though, is well worn. Hazel green cover with a hint of blue.
Cracks abound, tangling in the weather loved pages. Nebulae pour through them, eviscerating the mundane with the profundity of it all.
Rust curls up in its crevices, stealing away the remorseless taste of time. I found the notes in the side, the ones w
Literature
Shamditions
is there anything worse
than insomnia?
maybe this voodoo doll
who just won't stop staring at me
or maybe it's the frustration
with myself and my inability
to go back to sleep
to write how I want
you do not rule me or my art
take your traditions and walk away
or I swear on my art
which is my life
I will rip your traditions to shreds
Literature
Sand
It takes time to gather myself from here to there, and back.
It does not always go well.
Fear, I can mask, but not brittleness.
Eroded cliffs,
a beach I never asked to wash up on,
I reach without grasping,
getting caught in a loop...
Its omniscience,
so irritating,
yet in beholding its creation,
there is no other place to be.
One day, it will wake, and find the pile of sand that was me.
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Odin as Hangatyr, God of the Hanged and Hanged God himself, is how I was drawn to him first, and still primarily relate to.
Trying to understand what it means to hang on the Tree of Life has been haunting me since.
Trying to understand what it means to hang on the Tree of Life has been haunting me since.
Comments5
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Years I have spent contemplating the Mystery of Woden on the Bough, the meaning of Yggdrasil and the Irminsul. Intriguing for me to imbibe the conclusions of another, and while I think our paths in meditation were different, the conclusion was the same. But enough of my metaphysical meddling.
You write powerfully. Keep it up, if you please. It always warms my Heathen heart to see our numbers growing.
You write powerfully. Keep it up, if you please. It always warms my Heathen heart to see our numbers growing.