Need is the greatest of all foes
It can weaken resolve, yet strengthen the soul
It is the duty of need to test and challenge
It is the duty of need to make us who we are
All hardship in life
Waxes and wanes like the moon;
The drought comes, the cattle die off,
The harvest flees and so does good help.
To toil until yesteryear,
That is what will come of us;
Until all is satisfied,
The hole cannot be filled.
Winter has come
And lays out her precious jewels;
Each plant is covered, decked in ice,
And the sun admires her distant reflection.
The cold is like a wolf,
Hungry and ever-present,
And we pull our furs to our skin
To try and keep it away.
The bane of the flesh,
The biter with frosted teeth,
All is captured in hardest white
And Spring is far on the horizon.
Sif has blessed us
We shall reap the plenty
The Earth gives us her approval
As our scythes slice the stalks.
Whether a harvest of the sea,
Fish and eel bursting,
Or a harvest of the fullest fields
We are happy.
Come now, receive your reward
The wyrd has doled out much
It is time to take your share
And your piece of the gain.
The yew tree guards the flame
Warm is the fire
That burns from its logs
And dances in campfires aplenty.
Rising from the Mid-Earth
Comes Yggdrasil and its many branches;
Where a leaf may lie,
It is instead a facet of the World.
Like the lords of the wood,
The Mead-Tree and the Thunder-Tree,
The yew takes its place
As royalty in the forest grove.
The meaning is unknown,
Like many things of Fate;
All we can do is guess,
And trust our faith in the wyrd.
There is a tree, perhaps,
That reigns over all life's mysteries
And it hides from the others in the wood
And even the gods must find it.
The fruit of all knowledge —
In other myths,
That which damned humanity
And taking the form of apple, or perhaps pear.
The beast is wise,
The beast is protection;
The beast is a symbol of the gods,
And of power.
Its name is "Elk"
And it resides in many places,
Whether marsh or forest
Field or abandoned farm.
The beast is violent,
And it will charge any man;
Woe to those unprepared
For hooves like swords, antlers hard as steel.
Rising face of glory,
Warmth spread all around,
There comes the daughter chased
By a hungry wolf of Loki's.
Golden glow more beautiful than beautiful
A maiden in the sky to light the way
Sun goddess, sun-woman
Glinting in all her glory.
A treasure of the sky
Behold the sun birthed
The fire most eternal
That slowly works across the heavens.
God of combat,
God of war
Strength stacked many times
To form a barbed spear.
The sword of justice,
Which impaled Fenrir's maw
Taken with the wolf-joint
To bind the monster down.
Protection and strength
Veneration of the battle-lord
Heroic glory personified
The warriors shall drink in your name.
The green-leafed maiden
That the other tree-lords shall envy
Birth of new life,
Incarnate of Mother Earth.
Sister of the poplar,
Both dance in the wind
Breath of the gods
To bring them to life.
The woods would be lacking
Without such lovely trees
To sit and rest under
While contemplating new ventures.
Sleipnir bore the Father of Men
Svaðilfari bore the stones of the walls
A good horse bears his warrior
And the warrior bears promise.
Not to be confused with the yew
Both it and the horse burn with passion:
The passion of freedom for the animal,
And the passion of fire for the tree.
I am riding, riding far
And my horse my only friend
My loyal steed, I treat you well
For you shall carry me to the end of days.
It is only human
To desire, to think forward
To want and to hurt
To wish and to need.
Humanity sits beneath the Heavens above
And we toil and plunder
So is it any small contemplation
Why the gods will sometimes chuckle?
I am the joyous man
And then I am the weeping man;
I am the World, I am the Fool,
And I am carrion that returns to the Earth.