CHAPTER THREE

Icelandic is the “bath” that cleanses Lore of Propaganda’s Lies,

so the Journey of Redemption is clearly explained,

and the Cloak of Worthiness is known, proffered by Sylgja,

the “Sea Princess” of Inspiration, who “makes room”

for Light, opening the Door of Perception

and the Windows of the Soul, filling one with Higher Consciousness           

as her “bitter drink made from stems”

reveals the “inner workings” of the Mind,

inviting it to expand like the Cosmos,

plunging through Space, searching, exploring,

“recognizing” Truth, like a scholar pouring through books,

or an Eagle, high overhead, looking down on pastures

seemingly “cut to bits”, hovering above, facing the wind,

or a tapestry skillfully woven,

without any breaks or seams or flaws,

or a merchant-ship asea, full of exotic wares,

or a kindled flame that “builds up” to a blazing fire,

or falling on a Journey through Space,

ferried to a strange land, that is far apart

from “flesh and blood” familiarity,

like being a rotating vortex of Love,

being “ennobled”, like the “exclamation”

made by the clapper of a great bell,

or the “resonance” of a hollow drum-log,

or the deep echo in a cellar;

and viewing a wardrobe of colorful garments

that seems to stretch out endlessly,

like a banquet meal on an endless table,

without any dead creatures for food,

where many guests are speaking in a swirl of voices

that is hard to keep track of;

or like an Atlantean driving a cart

on a long Journey, to make a “repair”,

as ordered by Logic, who prescribed the “settlement

that will “prove” that God is God

by “embroidering” Idea with Reality,

like a great parade of decorated shirts;

thus, Evil’s “contention” that Idea is not All-knowing,

is “covered and smoothed” by Reality’s Cloak,

or its “shipyard” where Reality is “built”

then sails forth like a Swan on the Stream of Space,

or like strewn “bread-crumbs”

or sprinkled “herbs”

or spreading “fire”

or dottings of “houses”

or filings of “iron”

or Dis pulling her “baked goods” from the “oven” of Idea

and having her “faithful servants” distribute them

so nothing is “displaced” in the “perfect setting” of Reality

called Fate, who throws the “dice” of Love and Affection,

or strands a string of “acorns”;

yet always, Odinn contends with Light,

sending forth his Warriors of Darkness to attack Dis

and the “eddy” of Realty that “transports” Idea

and “smelts” the “red ore” of Love and Affection

into the “winding-staircase” of Life

that is the same shape as the Cosmos

that “breathes” and “lives” like Life,

having the “blood” of Energy,

and its “Day in the Sun”,

its “droughts” of Aspiration and Virtue

feeding its “desire” for Truth,

knocking on the Door of Perception,

whereby it becomes clear that

“Everything” is in its “due place”;

such is Atlantean Logic, modeling Heaven

so the Word of Dis becomes one’s own words and deeds,

reflecting Truth, like a large “cask” full of clear Water,

such that one’s “merit” is her effect;

and too, one’s defense against the ills

and “spears” that assault you

from the “knoll” of Hel;

for Dis is opposite to Evil,

her “breathing” is Purpose and Meaning

so Atlanteans bear her seal, an Oath

that holds one like a glove, or a lingering perfume,

so one breathes the Fragrance of Truth

as your lifelong “condition and commitment”;

thus, your Soul is Spiritual,

supporting Good, not Evil,

being “concerned” with Love and Affection;

and the writings of the Word, olden annals called Lore

in which Truth “lingers”,

still able to “convey” meaning,

so your decisions are “true” to Heaven-Above,

avoiding the “calamity” of Propaganda,

with its pronouncements that “establish” New Order

as an “arrangement” of rules and rites

that follow a Road to Success,

“situating” Life as a servant of Odinn,

deep in the “abyss” of Devolution;

following orders to torment the Faithful

with “spears” of aggression,

doing the “work” of Evil, forestalling Inspiration

with a clamorous, disrupted, Mind,

being quarrelsome, denying Truth, Dawn, and Redemption,

the “ploughs” of a Meaningful Life,

that “weed out” Ambition, planting Aspiration

and Virtue, and honoring Heaven;

being a “nest” for the Eagle,

or Heaven’s “hired-hand”, who readies the land

to become fruitful, and though delayed by problems,

remaining full of Faith, eager to plant

and sprout the seeds whose growth is aided

by Sylgja who “raises” the crop with Inspiration

to the extent of necessary growth, so its fruition

is an Atlantean at Dawn whose time of harvest is nigh,

for Dis readies her Judgment of your “ripeness”,

how well you “rounded” Below,

traversing the “half-plate” of Trials,

now standing on the “Prominence” of Dawn,

the “beam” of the “Loom” of Redemption

where her “followers” are “taxed”

by the “treasure-chest” of Truth,

judged for their disengagement from Devolution’s

hindrances that magnify Vanity and Greed,

not Mercy and Grace, one’s “Lifeline” for Worthiness

while “ploughing” through Below where the Serpent rules,

filling Hel with his “offspring”, opportunistic Egos

who please themselves at the expense

of the Common People, an “Age-old” story of abuse,

the focusing on “winners and losers”

that Evil has long plied,

saying “the best man always wins”;

a brazen lie, misrepresenting Nature’s “condition”

as being a “toy” for Odinn’s children to “play with”,

like a jump-rope, or a barrel, or a doll’s baby-carriage,

all being subject to Ego’s “entitlement”

as the Judge who decides and decrees

who gets possessions, property, land,

the spoils that Egos glut on in the “cellar” of Hel,

ruled by their “father” Odinn, who “fosters” them,

bringing them up to be Warriors, his foster-sons

who “pay their way” by likewise

giving birth to, and feeding Ambition,

that delivers Evil to the Serpent

by grabbing, holding, striking, and swallowing Life,

defiling the “true condition” of Nature

that Questers comprehend; so they avoid

the “game of competition” and the Will to Win

that Odinn’s children profess, craving satiation,

stretching out their legs after a “full meal”,

a foray against Life,

like making a “baby cry”

by taking her “bonnet” or “blanket”,

so it is clear who is “stronger”,

who “gives the orders”, who is the “scourge”,

the “fortunate victor” who sleeps in a comfortable bed,

being merry, young, and strong; not “helpless”

like these wayfarers,

a mother, a baby, and a young son,

the baby prattling happily in a sling

drawn over the mother’s shoulders,

playing with her long hair, as they

journey home from a trading-post,

the walking-stick now supporting bundles;

traversing a pine forest-land

where woodcutters despoil the forest,

stacking trees like driftwood on a beach,

making charcoal, turning Life into ashes,

like water pouring out of a bucket,

clearing the land for ploughing,

so the eagle’s lose a nesting-ground

for their pale-white eggs,

endangering their “line” of generations,

like boats on a rope, now made wretched

and impoverished by the woodcutter’s axe,

serving a rich man’s command to clear his estate

for pastures and farming;

such is the Serpent’s Agenda,

his “view” to break, fracture, and convulse Harmony,

then calling it a “cure”, making things “all better”;

thus, a heap of trees felled in a forest

is called good for the “spirit”, “breathing-room”

that “expands one’s horizons”,

fulfilling an “oath of commitment” for a “better world”,

a “tribute” to the “moveable feast”; thus advancing

the repute and esteem of Earth’s “lodgers”,

while “disagreeing” with Dis’ Harmony and Atlantean Moderation;

so now Everything has a value, an appraisal, a “price”,

based on Greed, the creed of New Order

that “makes room” to “accommodate” Egos

who sate themselves at Odinn’s “festival”,

the “reward” that they “bargained for”,

a soft “bedcover”, thanking them for their “service”;

so they accept in the “spirit” of self-aggrandizement,

filling Life with longings and desires,

a “waterfall” of good-fortune

that pools at one’s feet, “just a step away”;

and so, the Serpent’s Venom, Indulgence,

is taken by Ego Warriors, for being his spear,

Odinn’s “strong-arm”, hard as stone,

merciless, having the nature of Evil,

who was “dauntless” from the Beginning

in the Chaos that preceded the Cosmos,

being “blind” with greed and cupidity,

always seeking a “profitable share” of Chaos,

shifting and contriving; yet, rejected and abhorred

even by Chaos,

being accused of “making a name for himself”,

Bal, the Fire of Destruction,

having the Fate of being the Destroyer of Chaos,

and subsequently, the “scratcher” and “scraper” of the Cosmos,

making it “earn its way” unto Eternity,

as a “billowing continuation”, like a cheerful otter

riding a wave of “good tidings”,

never expecting to fall or fail,

shooting ever onwards, through the storm,

wind, tumult, and fury of Evil,

that tries to “find fault” with its pouring-forth

that is Fated to continue until the Cosmos

has “got enough” of Everything,

and its wave can “rest in peace”,

like a boat moored on the shore of Eternity,

no longer part of the Sea of Transition

and its Mission to Sail unto The End;

yet meanwhile redeeming Souls, like the Atlanteans

whose Truth quiets the babble of Propaganda

that saws the “planks” of one’s boat of resolve,

while hooking it with Temptations,

filling it so it is too deep in the water to sail,

sinking down into the soft seabed,

hearing the “bedtime stories” of Propaganda

that prattle about “begging” an Ego from Odinn,

that promises a “Lifetime of Indulgence”

if one ends all ties to Olden Lore

and joins Devolution, defeating Spirituality,

flinging away Atlantean Virtue, being like Odinn,

dark and smoldering, an “ember” of Destruction

whose sole purpose is to vex Harmony,

like a Serpent distressing its prey

then “curing it” with a “lethal strike”,

making it a lifeless heap, the “fitting end”

for a “flawed creature” that was “in need of” destroying,

being “broken-down” by a hard, firm, blow,

like thumping a fish to kill it, “healing” it Odinn’s way,

with an execution by the “right-hand” of Death

that “benefits” victims with slaughter,

deciding that they are “ready to die”,

to be “graciously dispatched” by an “outside force”

that “crosses out” their lives, and “releases” them

from the “burden” of their Oath to Dis,

the “pulley” that draws Soul towards Dawn,

the “navel” that “centers their Life”,

conveying Soul to the “inn” at the Firth

where one is saturated with the colors of a Beauteous Sunrise,

becoming augmented and replenished

by this many-colored cloak of Light

that makes one a “worker” for Dis

and her Sea-Tree of Redemption,

supporting its growth by being a Good Example

to the Spiritually frail and distressed

who are “losing the Game of Redemption”,

straying from the True Path, becoming like Odinn,

“disposed” as a Serpent, fostering Doom,

seizing Life and “taming” it,

like fish, in a pond

or bricks, in a wall

or sails, on their yards

or packages, and their destinations

that are pre-established and “spelled-out”

like a trodden path, or a bridled horse,

being led where the rider determines

by “controlling the reins” that are tied to the bridle rings

that relay the message to the horse

that any “disposition” towards Atlantean Virtue

will be corrected by the Serpent,

keeping it on the cart-way to New Order

unto the “end of the road”

where horses can rest and “feed”,

enjoying not the “widow’s weeds” of Virtue

but the “gifts” of a “productive” Earth,

that one can grind in the Mill of Ambition,

turning Lore and Love into Odinn’s Agenda,

so the “whole planet” is considered to be a “donation”

to Ambition’s Desires, a “garment”,

a ball of string to be “unwound”,

“finery” used as tinder to start

the Serpent’s Fire of Ribaldry

that “entertains” Egos, so they get a “fair share”

of “treasure”, Earth’s valuables

and riches, such as glittering gems,

loosed from their earthen “hiding-places”

to assist Temptation as lures

that draw in “chiefs”, like pulling in a large “fish”,

or felling a tall “timber”, showing them

that a purse can be made of sable

and a town out of sawn-lumber,

that “anything is possible”;

but truly, such is the “day of their Death”,

an end to their Life outside of New Order,

the ills of Evil that bury Redemption,

leaving only the “husks” of Egos;

forsaking Atlantean equal-opportunity

and the call of Dawn, whereby one becomes a Witness of Truth

whose testimony is Virtue, the “mirror” of Goodness,

being unimpeded by the “ifs, ands, or buts”

that weaken the flame of Truth that is Dis’

True Wand, assisting Reality on its Mission

of “being” Bera, Goddess of Good,

the She-Bear, Reality as the One Everything,

whose Cave is Eternity, and whose Goodness

is Merciful, “realizing” that the “Oneness” of Everything

is Validity, a Neutrality, an Innocence, a Harmony

whose Mission is Continuity, a Quest

supported and “centered” by Balance, Measure, and Moderation;

such is the “Cloak” of Goodness, Heaven’s Grace

that enters Life a Conscience, 

a “coat of mail” that protects against Evil,

like a sweet-dream, displacing a nightmare

or a Pyramid-“mountain”, in a flat desert

or a Crane’s “towering” feet, in a muddy shallows

or a Guard-dog, that dwells opposite from the Danir,

beyond the Hammer, and the Nail, the Lamp-city,

past the Water-Gateway, and the Inlet of the Geese,

near where the River bites into the Hall of Scales,

the Delta of tributaries and ravines;

there, on the inland empty plain,

is where, in the early days, Gisa

was much like Edin, a Spiritual Colony of Atlantis,

having the same Purpose, to nurture Redemption;

gladdening hearts with the Message of Mercy

and the “sweet smell” of Virtue,

that “sews up” a loose Life,

enabling one to “stand tall”

like the Promontory of Dawn, above Below,

akin to the “projecting rock” crafted as the Guard-dog, Garmr,

“above” the “desert” floor, to watch and guard Dawn,

home of Dis and Truth, the “headland” of Redemption’s Journey,

the “inlet” of the Guard-dog, who deters Evil

by being an Exemplar of Vigilance and Virtue, like an Atlantean

whose deeds and works illustrate the difference

between Clarity and a Devolution

that would “bury” the Truth under Propaganda and New Order;

such is the variance,

a meadow-land, or a marshland

a white tunic that “invites” Purity, or a corpse’s shroud

that winds around the body like Serpent coils,

or clinging vines, or twisting trails,

or sail-yard ropes, or Propaganda’s

convoluted “stories” that prattle on

without measure or end, speaking lie after lie

to excuse the aggressive, destructive, behavior

of Egos who follow the Dark Road,

becoming like Odinn, wicked sorcerers

who live their lives in shadows,

using spells and devices to appear mysterious,

being like Specters who suck the Lifeforce from Atlanteans,

then fill them with Darkness,

called their “share of the inheritance”

derived by “killing the Earth”,

being akin to Berserkers

who are single-minded, ruthless, destroyers

that roam the Earth intent on devastation,

sinking Life into Devolution, robbing it of its “shield”

of Redemption, rejecting Soul and Olden Lore,

despising Atlantean measure and moderation;

their being “as good as their word”,

riding the White Horse of Spirituality,

honoring their Oath to Dis,

who helps and supports them

with the “confidence” that their Journey

shares Heaven’s Purpose,

like a son shares his father’s “nature”,

being a “later version” of his Life,

as Edin was a “disciple” of Atlantis;

thus, Iceland was likewise persecuted

for supporting Love and Affection

as the “prow” of the Ship of Redemption

that “moderates” and “settles” one’s Aspiration,

like a helpful advisor

who “holds back the flood” of Propaganda

so the Sea-Tree is safe,

and Lore, the “chips off the block” of Truth, is secured;

akin to the Cosmic Quest for Eternity,

a continuity, a steady treading forth,

withstanding Evil’s Tests, its ills that doubt Perfection,

the Oneness of the Holy Trinity,

their “equality”, like “Triplets”

who “take turns” playing with a “doll”,

each polite and patient,

being “on their best behavior”

as if by prearranged agreement

they “accept their Fate”, knowing “in their heart”

that each will “have their turn”

in “due time”; for Time is their “common-ground”

that promises “equal opportunity”

to “express” their “wave of joy”

when their “time is ripe”,

like a “diver”, who suddenly “plunges into water”,

swimming along at a brisk and hearty pace

to a “distant shore” where a Beauteous Swan

offers a welcoming Trumpet-call to her “Nest”

that invites and draws one into its Vortex

that has many “layers” that bend and curve

like the insides of rings,

pulling one along, like a chisel

carving grooves round a walrus-tusk,

or a bandage wound round a leg,

except the “bandage” is Souls

and the “leg” is Eternity, the Fulfillment of Time,

whereby Time ends, forever, Eternity being “supernatural”,

disengaged and absolved of Time’s “duty”

of ushering the Cosmos to the End;

and of “housing” Atlantean Virtue,

that “grows together” with Time, being enjoined

for the sake of Continuity,

so the Serpent’s threat is forestalled

by Virtue’s modeling of the Cosmic Harmony called Goodness,

so Perfection is supported, and “equal to the task”;

thus Doomsday is “brought to its knees”,

flushed with frustration that its efforts

to make Perfection crooked and awry are

“constantly” defrayed by the Sea-Tree of Redemption

that counterbalances Doom

with Bera, the One Everything

whose Mercy spreads out like

Gullveig’s Eagle-Wings,

and the Eagle “lands” as Atlantean Virtue;

so Mercy and Virtue “grow together”

like a hood on a woman’s head,

such that they share the same “shape”,

as it were, a “meeting of the minds”,

one models the other,

like a coat of mail, fits its wearer

or a pair of lovers, embracing

or two people, sharing the same opinion,

or the same True Path, being of the same Faith,

the same “befitting” attire that “identifies” one

as a Follower of Dis,

whose Lore contains the precedents and examples

that illustrate the “case” for Atlantean Redemption,

its reasoning, affairs, and means,

whereby our olden ancestors, the Viking-Atlanteans

came to dwell on Earth

as their temporary “lodging”

that harbored their Ship

called Redemption, and their Message of Mercy and Love

that is Bera’s “crown”

whereby the Circle Journey is one’s opportunity

to join the “meal” of Truth, understanding Lore,

being above Propaganda, embracing Virtue

as one’s “mark”, one’s “wedding ring”

indicating “marriage” to Heaven, not to Devolution;

nor to the paunch-fat of Greed, nor being named

as a Warrior, empowered by Black Magic,

enriched by exploiting People, collecting tributes

and taxes, wearing costly clothing and ornaments,

sable robes; being Odinn’s “son”, his “front-man”

who steers People to his “throne” in Hel,

his seat of rule where he is worshipped

and honored as is his “due”, his “tithe”,

his “river of tears” that flows in from his “empire”,

and laps at his feet; such is the River of Hel,

and on its shores the “under-dwellers”

talk about how “tame’ the People have become,

like “dogs” with their “bones”, always complying

and yielding, needing little inducement to be drawn in

and “bridled” by the Serpent as Egos,

being robbed of their Soul by their new “lenient” Master

who is “loath to punish anyone”,

for “everyone is a winner” in Hel,

and Odinn is a “good sport”, being “one of them”;

when they are ill, he feels their pain

if their woolens are torn, he feels the cold

when they are overworked, he feels their thirst

when their “spirits are low”, he feels their grief

when they are “at wit’s end”, he “understands”;

if their daughter has disappeared, he is aghast,

and orders the river to be dragged,

and if she is found killed by an arrow, he is angry,

decrying how her Life was “wasted”, “taken from her”,

like being swallowed by a violent earthquake,

buried alive, while out on a stroll,

or drowned in its steaming, gaping, pit

while walking by the seashore;

or taking her dog where it can hunt for food,

roaming the muddy creek-sides, sniffling for scents

to follow, being “ready for adventure”, or pawing

at something that “seems” to be buried,

then moving on to the next interesting thing,

its belly, or its companion’s voice,

as she advises it where to explore next,

a rift in those boulders, hiding some secret

hidden treasure worth digging at, trying to widen

the opening with great gusto, chafing, rubbing, and barking,

being very urgent and insistent,

wanting to bring the treasure to Light;

akin to an Atlantean beginning her quest through Devolution, 

standing on a ridge overlooking the “boulders” Below

and saying, Well, well, no matter, I can walk

between them as I journey for Truth,

for there is an island in the distant Firth

where one learns to “stand straight”, become “upright”

and “just”, so one’s “mark” is positive and clear,

knowing that the Cave of Bera is valued by the Enlightened

who sloughed the “skin” of Duality

and tasted the Bread of Heaven

that is the “flesh of God”, the “paw” of Bera,

her Reality-Manifestation of  Most High Purpose,

regarded from Dawn as Noon

from where one sees the Four Stags,

Dainn, Dvalinn, Durapror, and Duneyrr,

who help divide Heaven, having an abode

from where each “activates” a function of Heaven

that “fits” their position in Heaven’s arrangement,

each having a “hill” to stand on, and, as it were,

their own “reins and saddle”

their own “bear-cub” to raise

their own “spined-segment” of the sea-urchin

their own “cloak” to wear

their own “bearskin” of Bera

akin to her Cloak of Worthiness

that is worn by Questers

to help them withstand the “burning” of Below,

the persecution that would “hunt them down”

then “warm their hearts” with Temptations,

seeing Life from the Serpent’s point of view,

through Snake Eyes,

so one’s eyes open wide with Greed and Desire,

like drawing one’s hand through a woman’s long, black, hair,

that is actually snakes in disguise,

pretending to be attractive and beguiling,

flashing and shining in the firelight,

alluring, like secret turning pathways

that glimmer and shift color,

like snakes gliding by, having lustrous sheen,

akin to clearing storm-clouds laced with sunlight,

or an elf’s shimmering feather-cape,

or an auk’s glossy black and white plumage;

or a baby’s glowing white skin, splashing happily in a bath,

offering to help wash, to do it herself,

inviting caresses, then ordering me to stop assisting,

to let her finish, for she “feels” she is becoming

“old enough” to care for herself;

such is the time and place

when the Serpent mixes Free-Will

into the Purity of Fate, tempting one to be assertive,

to “speak out” with the Serpent’s voice,

being “happy to have so many choices”,

like in a marketplace where every stall offers

something new and different;

yet this “skin” of variety is “thin”,

an ill-fitting cloak, not True Worthiness,

like wearing a “barrel” after drinking its “beer”,

then while so attired, ordering another,

stuffing oneself like a sausage,

oblivious to Devolution, thinking everything is a “game”

or a “sport”; not a search for Truth,

seeking the help of Inspiration as one proceeds to Dawn,

avoiding the Serpent’s “perfumes” that make one

heedless of danger, though in fact a Serpent

more “subtle” than Jormun-gandr looms nearby,

poised to uncoil and strike

with a venom that makes your blood

“turn to ice”, becoming stiff and pale,

like a birch-tree, then falling to the ground

where Odinn finds you and invites you “inside”

to recuperate and regain your strength

after such a bitter ordeal, that made you

“in need of assistance”, prostrate and befallen,

until Odinn arrived to save you

from drowning, being suffocated by Need,

craving air and breathing space,

like in a beautiful dale, with a cool soft breeze,

and a lovely mountain view, with a “babbling brook”

that “speaks” of Odinn’s “generosity”,

how his New Order “sweeps away” Need and desperation,

replacing them with a living, breathing, Ego

who has the nature and disposition of Odinn,

as his spokesman, the Serpent, attests,

using soap and water one can wash away

Love and Affection, replacing them with “boldness”,

Ambition rushing headlong and heedless,

like a “poisonous snake” scaring a group of children,

who all jump out of your way, twisting and turning

like fish out of water as they try to slip away,

akin to a great fleshy belly, bouncing and jiggling,

when a so-called “bold” Ego sees a real snake

while bathing outside, so he jumps up and flees,

wearing no clothes, only his snakeskin,

his “team-uniform” that declares him to be 

a “landowner” in Hel, one who follows the “rules”,

behaves like all the other “players”, believing that the Game

is whatever Propaganda says it is,

like a shore is defined by the beating waves that dash on it,

perhaps twisting like a stern “eyebrow” or “snake”,

or curved like the rim of a Pit;

thus, Ego “sees” what it is told to see,

its focus is fixated on whatever Odinn

says is Friend or Foe, then behaves accordingly,

fitting its actions to whatever Darkness decrees,

staining Ego’s mind, calling black, “white”,

cloaking Truth with lies, or “dressing it up”

with Temptations and Delusions,

like rouge on cheeks;

thus, the Ship of Redemption and her crew

Sylgja, Dis, Bera, Beri, and Gullveig, are all “put ashore”,

then buried; as perforce Lore is likewise “buried”

in Icelandic, but to protect it,

so Atlantean Virtue can later be revived

by the Daughters of Dis who are its guardians,

protecting it from the “shrieks” of the Serpent

by drawing on the “fringes” of meanings

so the “message” can only be “observed”

when their “significance” is known,

like a “bruise” that appears later, as a “reminder”

of the bump, or like one’s navel reminds where

the womb’s umbilical cord was detached,

its function as a “linkage” completed,

for the “baby” has had its fill of the “womb”

and was born, and breathed, then cried like a trumpet,

then began recasting the Mother’s Life in her “new image”

as Altari, the Altar of Atlantis, restored at last,

so the Gold and Silver of Atlantean Lore is honored,

such that what was “once upon a time”

is hidden in the “fringe” no more, but is a wide, bright, stripe,

a gust of “Fresh Air” from the “bellows” of Dawn

that trumpets the Truth, like a Swan,

so the Iron of Devolution is “recast” as water-pipes

that carry water from the same Source as

the “bath-water” that cleansed Dis

and made Truth “refreshed”, rid of  the

raven-black woes of Below

that peck at its Worthiness,

trying to tear its lower branches,

and gnawing at its roots,

calling Lore “hoary” and “gray-haired”

so its White Light becomes Black Night,

“clearly” something to shun and abhor,

to sweep away and be rid of,

being baneful, hostile, and cruel,

a “dark corner” where one is “wise to turn back”,

ending your Journey for fear that something “demonic’

might grab you, and pull you into the Darkness

to become “Evil like it is”, bound to it

like a ring on its Coffin of Doom

that is carved all over with subversive Atlantean writing

about a Spiritual Redemption, that Souls “harp on”,

faithfully questing to fulfill their Oath to Dis

and transit Below, ending the Test of Devolution

that exposes one to the sickness of Evil,

and Egos who “play their part” in defamation,

learning to speak like the Serpent,

having the hissing voice of Doom

that ensnares People in its coils,

a “whirlpool” that pulls one down,

deriding Atlanteans, telling one to “be a man”,

a Warrior “marked for success” and

great “repute” as one who seizes Life,

being “blessed with powers”, Odinn’s “right-hand”,

having “full authority” to act against anyone

who “lingers”, preferring Soul to Ego,

and Truth to Propaganda, the “eddy” of Below,

spokesman of Devolution, drowning and suffocating

Spirituality, like black on white,

speaking the Serpent’s Lies

that rename Good as Evil, and Evil as Good,

perverting Truth, calling blindness “boldness”,

the “courage” to use Free-Will,

supplanting reluctance with Ambition,

that ravishes Life, like Odinn,

“playing the game” to “win at all costs”,

being the Serpent’s “actor” whose “speaking part”

is to “represent” the business of Evil

by residing Below, in opposition to Love and Affection,

that comfort and ease the Soul’s Journey

so it reaches the “end” of Below, Dawn,

where Dis awaits with her “drinking-cup” of Truth

that soothes one’s ordeal by expanding Consciousness

so one “recognizes” what is “known to be True”,

that Reality “mirrors” Idea

so it is “mannered” and “predisposed”

like a “fixed-game”, a foregone conclusion,

ordained, “made to order”, to “fit”,

like a sock on a foot,

or a set path with a set destination,

being an “identical twin” who is “like-minded”

and has the same “voice and manners” as the “first-born”, Idea,

the same “measure” of Spirit,

being soft-spoken, merciful, gracious,

and “agreeable”, Fated to travel and roam far

to meet with and find many things,

then ultimately collapse at the Vortex of Eternity

on that Fateful Day when Truth has completed the “mould”

that “assigns” Everything its individual destiny

as a “fixed and appointed” piece of the puzzle,

until the shape is fully-resolved

as Idea’s “proof” that Reality is like an Eagle

flying to her Nest,

or an “all- around- and -aboutness”

that “briskly moves” to “express” the “scheme” of Idea

whereby its “embroidered figures” fulfill Everything,

like forecasted weather that later occurs as predicted,

or when your “anticipated marriage” “turns out”

as happily as you had hoped it would,

or how the “difficult path along the mountain ridge”

becomes as easy to cross as “floating downstream”,

as it were, one “whistles past the graveyard”,

or while traversing a “shower of arrows”,

because one is propelled by Faith in Fate,

having the Atlantean Virtues that are like “nails”

securing the “planks” of one’s Ship of Redemption,

that are one’s “heritage”, one’s “slice of the sod”,

one’s partaking of Olden Lore, so it becomes the

“blood” of Life, helping Life to Aspire and Quest,

traversing the twelve “arches”, the twelve “curved bowls”,

or the twelve “lace caps” that are miracles of tatting,

stringing knots into a curving cap,

or twelve “tipping goblets” that spill

the amber droplets of Stars,

like a glittering “snowdrift”, each “snowflake” unique,

yet itself being a “drinking-cup” of Idea,

akin to the Larger Goblet,

like an inlet is part of a larger bay,

being an “overflow or spill” that is yet related,

like a baby’s illness having the same symptoms as her older brother,

the same “spots”, the same “fever”,

the same “swelling”, and following the same course

of development; so the Life of a Star mirrors the Life of a Cluster,

both mirroring Idea;

and too, Matter is like a “bag” that seems to be empty,

“at a loss”, yet is actually “well-prepared” and “ready”

to be “filled with Life” then “prattle and coo”

like a “newborn baby”, babbling like a brook,

or like a ground that becomes full of earthworms,

one next to the other, each red as blood,

and “running a race” like a company of racers,

or like a “tapestry” that is filled with riders on horseback

who each has a space “marked out” and “inlaid”

by the “weaving”, all co-existing “hospitably” as Lifeforce,

yet also being a separate, even smaller “slice of Life”, particles of Matter,

like “beads on a necklace”, “anxious” to show

their individual “color and hue”,

their “symptoms” of Life, their “footprints”

as they “investigate” and “ask”

the Questions of Consciousness, becoming “informed”

then “rushing off” to “get their fill”

of the next “strip of field”, traveling amongst the Stars,

leaping and springing in flights,

like flocks of storks, that stream through Space,

being a great “outpouring”, questing for “fulfillment”,

forming a “pool” of Lifeforce

that is “apprehensive and vigilant”,

and “fevered”, like a ewe in heat

or “fearful of the axe” and the sound

of the “Evil” rancher’s voice, and the “lean and hungry”

Serpent-look of his cheeks, being creased

like they were cut by his own axe;

he approaches and looms over the ewe,

her Spirit quakes, even though they share the same Lifeforce,

the same “mirroring” whereby all Existence is “related”

as being “of Bera” just as she is “of Idea”,

so One Purpose “animates and blooms” Everything;

and Lifeforce is Bera’s Bounty, called Beri,

the Young Mother whose fertility helps “seed” Bera’s Mercy,

spreading the “Silver” of Life that is “refined” as Virtue

whereby Soul can “support” the Purpose of Life, Redemption,

thus offering “recompense” to God

for one’s partaking of the Cosmic Plan,

the Story of God’s Success, the Stream of Consciousness

that continues unto Eternity;

aided in part by the Viking-Seeders,

the Atlanteans who share the “yolk” of the Cosmic Egg

by “turning” Life towards Redemption and Dawn,

restoring Truth as the “trend” so Soul can “respond”

to Good, and pay “homage” to God,

like a “tickling” in one’s throat

becoming an urge to “speak the Truth”,

finding the “red-ore” of the Cosmic Yolk,

the True Wealth of Creation

and the True Confirmation that God is God,

that Redemption “proves” Worthiness,

that Judgment is Merciful,

that Drinking the Water of Truth is refreshing,

that Soul is more meaningful than wealth,

or desire, or status, or long-life;

for Soul can “know God”

with the help of Sylgja, whose “Mound” of Inspiration

is just beyond the Door of Perception,

and whose marriage-house unites

Heaven-Above as Worthiness, with

Earth-Below as Altari, the Altar of Virtue,

the “Calf” of Heaven’s Bull, Father Fate, one’s knowing

that Virtue is Bera’s Legacy of Mercy and Love,

Fated to be the “clothing” worn by the Faithful,

such as the women who “keep the Faith” of Icelandic,

they being “cups” of the “water” of Truth,

or a “grove” of trees, undefiled and unspoiled,

so their Virtue stands-tall,

and “feeds” succeeding generations,

helping them withstand the Serpent’s “feast” of Devolution,

featuring the beef of cattle, killed for the “benefit”

of this present company of revelers;

an entire steer being fixed on a spit,

then scorched by fire until it is “just right”,

then carved and divided in a “suitable way”;

and later, the charcoals that came from the burnt forests

are doused, and “wishbones” are cracked

to see who will have good-luck and favor,

and who will have ills and obstacles;

then the “winners” are regaled,

briefly “put on a pedestal”

or their names are carved on a tree-stump

to commemorate them, like a “pillar” marking a great “victory”;

and lastly the leftovers are bundled,

for the outdoor feast is over, and the clearing is deserted,

showing no trace of the “pomp” of the day;

such is the Life of Devolution,

far astray from the Path of Spirituality

that “rises upwards” above the ground-level

of simple self-indulgence,

living “under the influence” of Devolution;

being its “spectacle”, like the brandished swords

and colorful flags of a parading army,

as the “frowning” Serpent looks on “sternly”,

though he is not at all displeased,

for they march not to leave Hel behind,

but to do his bidding; thus, the frowning

is “just for show”, because looking fierce and

gruff befits a “commander” who must keep

his Warriors “banded together”, like a clump

of similarly “fierce and gruff” fighters, who are

“stiff” like arrows in a quiver, with their visors

down over their faces, looking like iron “candlesticks”

being so fully armored, or like metal “tree-trunks’

without any thatch of branches or leaves,

just the heaviness and weight of leaden “stumps”,

who will be happy for their “rest and recuperation”,

having just that one thought by the end of their “parade”,

finding some shaded nook or corner to relax in,

looking like beached whales that all just washed ashore

after some raging “storm” generated violent seas

that, acting like a “ringleader” rounded-up a crowd

of aggressors to “storm the beach”;

but instead, they all became suddenly “ill”

and collapsed on the sand, moaning and groaning,

bewailing their foolhardiness and impudence,

their pride and arrogance that made them “fall ill”,

like a shower of arrows landing on a “pavement”

that turns out to be the “hearthstone” of Darkness, Hel,

where “Midnight” records the “Time of Death”

after checking the corpses with an iron-poker

for any vestige of Life, any twitching limbs,

any living, lying under the fallen dead,

pinned down, yet still hungry and thirsty for Life,

a chance to live, and to Journey,

to find Redemption by cultivating Virtue,

not the Agenda of Odinn, thereby setting a course

on the True Path, ceding Free-Will to Faith in Fate,

“making one’s bed” with Fate’s circumstances,

putting one’s Life in God’s Hands,

being “led” by Aspiration for Light,

becoming “brightened” by Inspiration,

saved from Below by the Word, the Truth of Dis

that “alters” Consciousness, “breaking it off” from Duality

and showing how Virtue leads to “Oneness”

whereby Heaven and Earth are “balanced”

by a Common Purpose, acceptance that God is Good,

that Continuity is the Story of God’s Success,

and that People “support” God by filling Life with Virtue,

thereby “redeeming” the Cosmos

with “proof” that one’s “inner-goodness” of Spirituality

reflects God’s Purpose of Resolution,

such that both express a “Harmony”

worthy of Eternity;

thus, the “scoffer” Evil is forestalled

by the “furtherance” of the Cosmos;

his efforts to “cut and carve” Fate’s Perfection

are “doomed to fail”, for Perfection is inviolate;

so his attempts to “seize Life” and “hang it upside-down”

or “drag it along” are withstood by Redeeming Virtue

that “honors” God by modeling Harmony;

so Virtue bows its head to God, as the

“bow” of a ship “nods” to the waves on its Journey,

thus Life is formed in God’s “Image”, as a Quest,

a venturing forth, like a swift-running current,

withstanding the “weapons” of Evil, and the many “traps”

that Odinn employs to seize one’s “limbs”,

one’s Virtue and Faith, branches of the Sea-Tree,

and force them into the mould of Ego,

whose Ambition goes forth bearing Odinn’s “standard”,

intent on harming, blaming, and damaging his “enemies”;

so the Serpent has many Warriors

who follow his “advice” to punish and chastise

the Faithful, using whatever force is needed,

doing whatever they desire, to make the People

“bow-down” and surrender to Odinn’s New Order;

taking the captive women into his “sickbed”

to “prepare” them for being robbed of their senses,

the same way they were robbed of their lands,

both being “swept-away”, leaving no shelter,

no protection for the People from the “iron-fists”

of their assailants, who stripped the women of their clothing

and raped them, using their strength to overpower resistance,

and in a case like this, having their way until sated,

“favoring” the younger women and girls with extra “attention”,

like they “care about” their axes, and having

meat on their table, and following their orders

to rape and ransack, for the sake of New Order

that is nothing like the Way of Truth,

but is a “snowstorm” of Lies that confuse the mind

like a layer of “dust”, so one is “unprepared”

to be proactive, as one would handle a breakable “dish”

very carefully, or when a fabric

catches on something, it is patiently freed,

or when many opportunities arise at once,

you sift through them diligently,

or when you are high up in a nearby mountain,

you search the landscape for your house

down below, from up above on your perch,

and then finding it in the whirlpool of foliage,

like a little boat in a sea of greenery,

or a treasure-chest safely tucked away,

like a contented scholar in a vast library,

or a particularly sharp knife kept in the back of the drawer;

or an unmarked grave in a cemetery   

probably belonging to a humble Atlantean

“tall in Spirit” but not in status,

of noble mind, but little money;

so the priest buried him on the outskirts,

not near the Rich and Famous

who had many psalms sung for them,

and a reception after the funeral,

with relatives strolling the grounds

while filling up on the lavish refreshments;

a few having too much to drink,

ordering the servants around,

while others play chess until the sun goes down;

such are the manners of the wealthy,

whose lives always “rhyme”, being easy and sedate,

like a forest of languid trees,

or a soft down-comforter, or kid-skin gloves,

not hard, like the deck of the Ship of Redemption;

or trying, like traversing the domain of Hel,

like walking through a shower of arrows;

such is the treading of Atlanteans

whose arms embrace Life, not “seize” it

like “land-grabbers” who clear the wilderness

to make roadways for the rich nobility,

and clearings for their mansions

with grand, wide, gated entries,

and tall stone walls, so the “great leaders”

are safely “tucked away” from the

“eddy” of Life outside their fortresses,

that are made solid, like rocky crags,

having no “woman’s touch” at all,

and no relation to the People

whose blood is the “mortar” of these structures,

while they live in crowded towns or slums

where Atlantean Virtue is rare indeed,

even though their populations are large

few walk through the Gate of Faith

and build a Life that models Heaven

so one’s Spiritual Standing is “tall”, on the “wall” of Dawn’s Horizon,

above Below, being a “berth” and a “birth”,

like Icelandic, that is a living-language “ship”

and too, a stored “cradle” of Lore,

in readiness for a Life of Truth,

being “on the side” of Light, above Devolution’s Darkness,

hearing the words from within, spoken through Soul,

that inspires one to be an Exemplar

who “walks the Line” that demarks Above and Below;

living at the Firth of Dis where the Rising Sun, Auga,

is the Beginning of Above, beckoning Life

to transcend Below, the Pit of Devolution

that would take from Soul its inheritance from Heaven,

Redemption, the “second sight” that sees the Dawn of Truth

beyond Below’s Message of Doom, its awfulness

that suffocates Spirit, while claiming to

“be of assistance”, helping “build a better Life”;

but Odinn’s “treasure-chest” is really a coffin,

its “Good Life” is really a “loan”,

its “lesson-books” teach only Propaganda’s Lies

that denigrate Soul and defile its Virtues,

Life’s Beauty, its Art of skill and diligence

that becomes “leaves” that are “raked together” and burned,

maligned as Oaths to Evil, the “staves” of a Barrel of Lies

that make People do “terrible things” like

flaunting the “Natural Order” that “binds” Egos together

so they can “tame” their Needs by “seizing” Life

and “putting a price on Freedom” as being the evidence

of their Independence from Neediness,

for such is the Meaning of Life, the Seat of Power,

the “elevation” from which “everything falls into place”,

for it “informs” one’s Life with the “charms”

of New Order that free Ego from “obeisance” to Heaven,

so Life is “easily taken” where Ambition directs it,

which “just so happens” to be where New Order is “headed”;

a “happy coincidence” whereby everything one

thinks and believes is deemed Bright and Beautiful

and “happens to be” exactly what one has been “taught”,

for all the “teaching” is found to be the “right case”,

“what really matters”, “the way it is”, the “measure of a man”,

“high time”, and one’s “daily bread”;

so Egos are a “month, of days”, a “study, of their learning”

yet learning is only what has been “properly studied”,

like runes must be “studied” before their power

and meaning become “evident”,

and sagas must be “critiqued” before they are

“properly understood”, and Life must be “put right”

and “well-placed” to be “meaningful”,

such that one “sees” the “wisdom” of the “System”,

the Barrel made of Staves, that “reports” the “news”

in the “language of the People” so they can

“truly understand” and “know for certain”

that they have “corralled” the Beast of Life

and “lie in the bed they have made”,

“reap as they have sown”,

“pulled themselves up by their own bootstraps”,

and so justly wear the Cloak of Righteousness,

having pledged their lives to a “Decoy”

carved by Odinn himself, to be his Agenda

that sends every duped Ego on a “fool’s errand”

and fills them with the Serpent’s Venom of Propaganda

so they become Spiritually “ill and diseased”,

thus take his “cure”, his “remedy” called New Order

that leads to the “home of the brave”, Hel,

where his Straw-Warriors, Egos, are “strewn”

by the winds of his orders that send forth

showers of arrows upon Atlanteans,

the Faithful, who Journey to Dawn,

causing their “untold” death and destruction,

raping their daughters, cursing their Faith,

their “Ship of Fools”, calling them obedient “sheep”,

or “boat-People”, or “Heavenly Host”, the “Army of God”

whose “Fate” is to “die at the feet” of Odinn’s Warriors,

to “kneel down” like they do in church,

only now, kneeling on the bloodied ground

of their ransacked dwellings,

having lost everything, friends, family, home,

their “army” totally defeated;

though hardly deserving the name “army”,

being basically helpless, calling their Faith

and their Virtue their “defense”,

their “tree-sap” that protects against Serpent’s Venom

with the “propriety” that conditions one’s mind and mood

to live Fate “constantly”, like a “fledgling”

of Heaven’s Eagle, who did not “choose” to be born

in a “nest” that the Serpent can “access”;

but such is the Fate of Soul,

to enter the “house” of the body

and “set its course” for Redemption,

heading towards the Word, True Lore

that fills Questers with Virtue and Faith in Fate

so they can withstand the assaults of Propaganda’s Lies,

one’s so-called “daily bread” that “feeds” Ego

and gives it “strength” to “rule” Life,

“grabbing it by the throat” and “rattling its teeth”

so it “shakes free” of Atlantean deference to Heaven

and the Journey of Worthiness, the Quest for Light,

the “twinkling star” of Inspiration in the Darkness Below,

that helps one “stay loose”, uncorrupted and unbound

by Devolution, that tries to “bring you down”

to “its own level” of decay,

thereby “catching its fever”, a “sense of Doom”

and “immanent destruction” that begins at

“twilight” then darkens towards Midnight,

like “toasted bread” that becomes burnt,

or a “long dark tunnel” that progressively obscures,

or a beggar’s “ragged clothes” that become

increasingly muddy as they near his “feet”

where the “hem” trails in the mire,

or a drinker who becomes “very drunk” and then

challenges everyone present to see if anyone will

engage in a “fight to the death”

or contest how long one can “swallow fire”;

such is the “sport” of Evil, to “build up” Ego’s arrogance

while “dragging Life down” with Devolution,

thus everyone knows “who is in charge”,

the Master of Doom, Odinn,

whose Road to Success is New Order,

that makes one as “victorious” as he is,

being a Serpent-Warrior with Snake-Eyes

who “just follows orders”, being a “link in the chain”

of command, who when told “sink or swim”

always “swims with the Big Fish”, never “bending over backwards”,

never “knowing when to quit”, but “behaving like a wild animal”,

a Berserker, a “wild and crazy man”,

so “honking like a Swan” means he is passing gas,

the “Sign of the Cross” means he is about to kill you with his axe,

his “pained expression” means “This hurts me more than it will hurt you”,

then his Serpent-hissing mocks your dying breath,

and lastly, he “rides into the sunset”, mocking Dawn;

and too, his double-axe is shaped to mock

the Atlantean Swans whose necks “stand-tall”

embracing the House of Bera, forming her Heart of Goodness

that gladdens and cheers Souls,

helping and supporting Redemption, and pinning

the Star of Enlightenment on Worthy Questers

who “walked the walk”, “reached for the stars”,

and “got their just reward” for their “Inward-Journey”,

as it were, trekking in “stocking-feet”

for the Quest is Spiritual, not Physical,

one’s “landing-place” is in Heaven, not on Earth,

like a long-legged crane is high above the “shallows”,

or a loaf of bread is a good example

because before it was baked it was dough

“flat on a plate” but then it was formed into

a loaf-shape and placed in a simple, cast-iron loaf “mould”

that “framed” its shape to be like the “bread-box

it will come to reside in that will keep it “fresh”

as though “just out of the oven”

even though the loaf has been “sliced”

and some pieces were served and “spread with butter”

and then seized by many grabbing hands,

especially vying to “win” the last piece,

to “rake it in” like it was “the most valuable thing in the world”,

and even though it now seems a “small reward”

a little while earlier one considered it “reasonable”

to nearly “bend over backwards” to have it in one’s grasp,

like a wild animal quickly dragging dead prey to its den,

then running there, to flee a sudden snowstorm,

finally dropping its catch to speed its retreat,

thus being left “empty-handed”, naked and bereft,

except for the chill and fever one caught

while thawing out in the cold den;

then the illness worsens, and you die

after a period of incoherent babbling,

reaching “the end of the line”

like a branch being sawed until it suddenly falls,

or like being in a storm-tossed ship that sails and sails

until it abruptly hits land, and though beached,

the crew are “just happy to be alive”,

escaping what appeared to be “certain Death”;

now Life seems more important than catching

a “good haul of Fish”, for what value is a full hold

if you are dead; is it not more pleasing

to “live to see another day”, and if that is the case

when under duress, clearly one should realize

that the “conclusion” applies to everyday Life

without call for a deadly Crisis to spur it;

like being faced with the Shout, by the Serpent Odinn,

that kills everyone in its path, being like a scythe

slicing through a thicket, that was upright and steady

then suddenly felled by the arrival of the Blade,

that, as it were, knocked them off their feet;

causing them to tumble in disarray, all deceased,

and having the same expression of shocked bewilderment,

for the “impact” of the Shout is like that of a

shifty counselor who carefully “colors” his words

so his “position” on an issue is fluid and conditional,

such that its mannered vacuity “drives one crazy”;

thus, mere speech can “destroy the mind”

like a nail through the brain, only the nails are words alone;

similarly, the Serpent’s Shout is fueled

by coils and twists of Anger that Odinn reserves

to chastise his enemies, being a potent Wrath

causing illness unto Death, the victims being “transfixed”

by the assault, as though pinned by a piercing spear,

making them rigid as the deadly shaft, like stark trees

that look dead even before they are felled,

as if knowing that Death is “just around the corner”,

like “digging your own grave”, or instantly aging,

becoming too feeble to flee, your hair turns white,

your skin is pale and drained, ashen,

like a criminal hearing his Sentence of Death,

standing motionless, looking like a wooden chess piece,

a “doomed king” at “checkmate”,

or like a frozen “snowman”, standing straight

as his sentence is carefully pronounced,

he shall not “live to see Dawn”, for “so it is written”

and so it shall be done, Truth has spoken,

his merits, his Atlantean Virtues, were wanting,

he lived as a servant of Odinn,

following Evil’s orders, always obeying, never a doubt,

being “incited” by the Serpent, but “eager” as well,

to cause harm and damage, mercilessly

“performing his duty” of spreading Evil far and wide,

celebrating its “Victory Days” with “foolish” behavior

and drunken merrymaking, forgetting the fact

that so many lives just ended, all for the sake of Wrath;

about which Icelandic carries the True Story,

not only the Saga of the Cosmos, but how Odinn’s New Order

made “sport” of everything sacred,

drowning Redemption in the babble of Propaganda

that speaks with the Serpent’s Voice, being his “beard”

that moves in unison with his speaking,

yet “disguises” and “hides” his actual intent;

thus, Odinn also increases his “influence and fame”

by “subtler” means than the Shout and his Warrior’s axes,

so “joined together” they cut the Cosmic Rope, the “twine”

of Life, and the Mooring of Redemption, severing Spirituality,

supplanting it with the “wedding” feast that “joins” Life to Ego,

spreading the message that Free-Will does not “bow to Heaven”,

“bend backwards”, or “sink to its knees”, to please God;

for the Shout demonstrated that “Real Power” lies with Odinn,

his “pensive brow” knows all, his abilities are “limitless”,

“infinite”, thus he is able to take “whatever he pleases”,

his authority is “absolute”, so his accusations are

verdicts of “guilt”, he is Judge and Jury,

and he “leads” the way, with New Order

that “blazes a trail” with the Flame of Ambition,

renaming everything sacred as Unspeakable Evil,

so Silver Lore is melted and “recast” as Odinn’s

“currency”, his Fame and Fortune,

and Truth is “burned in Hel”, becoming “ashes”

on its hearth-stone; Lore is “seized”, its story

corrupted by lies, a new “Saga” is told,

rewriting the history of true events, and the end result

is Hel becoming the “whetstone” and the “foundation-stone”

whose “history” begins with the Fire that destroyed the Truth,

so the Tears of Lore became the “fresh-water wells”

of the new “saga” that promotes only lies

disguised as “refreshment” to relieve hot summer days,

but being a “wolf in sheep’s clothing”, entertainment as deception,

reformulating Truth; its popular Lies

being like a “bull on the loose”

that rampages through history, wrecking havoc,

thrashing, shaking, upsetting Lore,

turning it “upside-down”, calling its lush “dale”

a deserted bower, a craggy rock, a wild wood,

a barren, desolate place; such is the “game” of Propaganda,

that “plays dirty” and “plays to win”,

being the Evil that calls Lore “Evil”,

subverting and sweeping away Truth,

then telling a new “tale”, making a new “record” of the past

that begins with the “high-born, noble, Odinn”

who “blazed a new trail of Opportunity”

whereby everyone can be Free like Odinn,

ending obeisance to Heaven by trying on

the “latest fashion” called Ego, that makes Life

“attentive” to one’s desires;

and so concluded the Golden Age of Spirituality

and began the Silver Age of the Serpent,

the time during which this Icelandic tongue

was formulated, brought into common usage

and written down as the Bath of Dis

that is intended to wash away the Serpent’s Lies,

like a refreshing, cleansing rain;

thus, by “not being what it seems”, the Truth is safe

until the day it can “recover” and “reclaim” its Legacy,

changing the tide of Devolution by “unwinding”

Atlantean Virtue from Propaganda’s Serpentine Lies,

so when his goading fangs are removed,

God and Dis return to “health”, as their True Likeness,

no longer “encoded” in Icelandic

whose “end of the bargain” will thereby be completed,

having secured the True Path by using

“words within words” so Truth was “indisposed”

but ready to “raise its voice” when “called upon”,

so its “full-dimension” will become known,

“articulated”, and revealed as the True Story

that “managed to survive” the onslaught of Odinn,

like an old wool “sweater” that has seen a lot of

“rough days” and “bad weather”, yet “mercifully”

is “still in one piece”, not “torn to shreds”

or “coming apart at the seams”, or “full of holes”

like an augured tree, or like a laughably, ineptly drafted

“last will and testament” that is like a whirlpool of legal phrases

that never “get down to business”, being “full of worms”

that twist and turn; but instead is akin to a “young deer”

that darts and dashes through the forest, finding a passage

where none seems to exist, yet having no mishap,

being confident and sure, unhindered and unimpeded,

“footloose and fancy-free”

like the free young woman who is tasked to hide

Olden Lore so its Truth will be undetected, and protected

from the many sorrows caused by Odinn,

his stormy fury and tumult

that only Truth can “cure”, so the “swelling” goes down,

like a wild horse tamed by a “Good Rope”,

so it is proscribed, not rampant,

being “recognized” by Wisdom as Necessary Evil

that “tests” the Resolve of the Cosmos

by its “mischief-making” that “rattles the bones”

of Reality, like a gust of wind rattling windows;

thus, Evil is pervasive, ranging far and wide,

trying to “wound” the Perfection of Fate by “pulling a twig”

from Fate’s “woven basket”, thereby shattering Perfection

and consequently ending Fate’s “rule” as the “Journey”

that is likewise the “attire” or “setting” of the Cosmos;

akin to the fact that although one wears different clothes

for different occasions, and they were also worn at different ages,

yet only your body bore them,

just as your voice is always your voice

whether whispering or yelling Yea,

and your Soul is always and only your Soul,

reflecting your individual Aspiration,

like the words that come out of your mouth

reflect your thinking, and can express

the very personal concerns and affections

of one’s inner “hearth”, where Conscience is “born”

as a Deliverance from Evil, Odinn’s schemes,

tricks, and devices that prepare your “downfall”

into the Serpent’s Pit where you drown in Propaganda,

becoming an Ego of Ambition that “pledges” Life

to become “like Odinn”, whose only “peace”

is “constant war”, “girding one’s loins for battle”,

confronting Life, taking one’s “profits”, trying one’s “luck”,

being “cold as ice”, one whose “church is the graveyard”,

whose Circle, is a shield

whose Fate, is Free-Will

whose Aspiration, is Brute Force

whose Dawn, is Rising in the Hierarchy

whose Judgment, is his tally of kills

whose Mercy, is Anger

whose Cosmic Rope, is a Hangman’s Noose

whose Exemplar, is Odinn

whose Sitting-room of Truth, is a pub

whose Inspiration, is drunkenness

whose Test, is to burn one at the stake

whose Consciousness, is Ego

whose Knowledge, is Power

whose Below, is Hel

whose Difficult Journey, is because of “gout”;

such is the Game of Life for an Ego-Warrior

“breaking his leg” for Odinn, destroying, violating,

forcing, and tearing-down the “enemies” of New Order,

being strong, powerful, and bitter,

carving his way with an axe, “beheading Life”,

thus stumbling and blundering along,

heedless and blind, like a randomly thrown spear,

a “shot in the dark”, taking “slices of Life”

so Life “sits pretty” on the end of his lance;

such is Ego’s “standard of living”, his direction in Life,

being opposite to the drinking-cup at Dawn,

where Truth speaks of what is known,

that one’s fulfillment is Light at the end of the Tunnel,

the “test” of Below that Atlanteans face with a smile,

“ear to ear”, “Dusk to Dawn”,

so the Serpent is “stunned”, and meanwhile

on “stocking-feet” one “tiptoes past the graveyard”,

being, as it were, slippery as a “snake”

gliding on a “belly” full of laughs

to the Tablet of Truth in the Firth of Dis

as the sunrise gleams not on the monetary Silver

of the Serpent Age, but on True Silver, Olden Lore,

the Waterfall of Wisdom that cleanses one of Ego

and “suitability” to Below that fills you with illness

and disease, so one’s Life is a tattered cloak,

blood-soaked and soiled; as it were,

one’s “entrails and bowels” are now one’s person,

the “true colors” of Devolution, being “serpentine”

and slothful, a manured field that is

“well endowed with dung”, a fitting “setting”

for the “feast” of Ego, as there is no need

to go to the privy, since ale is the “color” of urine,

so “save yourself the trip”,

“why walk all that way”, ale, urine, whatever;

but perhaps someone can carry you there,

then would you be willing to go,

you might have to wait, with this popular new option,

perhaps you can beat the rush,

remember, “opportunity only knocks once”,

but “if it is meant to be” you will be first in line,

as it were, on the “maiden voyage”,

hopefully it will be a “dry run”;

if necessary, jump off and run the last few paces,

with luck, you will not get lost, going that short distance,

and so find your “safe haven”, arriving “high and dry”;

shall I  make the necessary preparations for this important event,

this “ride to glory” that will “chase your troubles away”,

for you will be like the “main course” of the feast,

sailing on your platter, as the crowd looks on in wonderment;

but do not let the adulation distract you, a true hero stays focused,

so tear yourself away from your fans and go “do your business”,

people will sing your praises when they hear of your determination

to seize this “chance of a lifetime”; fame is calling,

go take your place in history, be fearless, like a Warrior of Odinn

who “casts his fate to the wind”,

when he is not living comfortable at home,

or following orders, or with his brothers-in-arms

who inherited from Odinn their reputation as

killers, who wear a lot of jewelry,

who shed blood, but also drink it for “health”,

who fight to the Death, but dole out booty

according to strict rules and regulations,

who care for their daughters, but rape girls who are “enemies”,

who say, “Fame is worth more than Gold”

but make sure to get their “fair share”,

who are willing to die for vengeance,

but happily take a part of a slain brother’s share of booty,

who say they love women, but never marry one,

who say “Life is a Competition” but treat their brothers as equals,

and support the sons of fallen comrades as if they were their own,

“a chip of the block”, or a “strand” of a woven-belt make of wool

that was shorn off of sheep who always band together under duress,

just like these fearsome Warriors,

when the situation calls for it,

such as fearing for the wellbeing of that boy;

they meet together and plan his assistance,

behaving more like concerned fathers

than like the Father of Armies, Odinn,

figuring a due and proper course of action

to help the child thrive, everyone contributing something,

like a stew in a cauldron;

or a picnic-lunch in this basket,

being a gathering together of many good things

to foster a forthcoming “benefit”,

like these pieces of amber

that will become a nice necklace,

or these cows that yield the milk for good cheese

like the cheese in this basket,

or like the “weather-gods” deliberating a verdict

of the first flecks of snow that will soon be

their “decided opinion” of snowfall,

or this wilderness that will become full of Spring-flowers,

or these trails that will lead you home

where the aroma of the cooking “stew” whets your appetite;

such are the Cycles of Life that nurture and benefit Soul

so that “Time heals all wounds”,

it is “evergreen”, a “lingering brook” that brings Mercy

to mildly, gently, soothe the “babble” that would trouble

one’s mind by filling it with many words from many mouths,

keeping you awake at night, pouring like streams into a lake;

but Mercy “consecrates” those waters,

undoes the damage, being like “a bridge over troubled water”

that links Soul’s Aspiration to Heaven’s Inspiration;

so you tread over the bridge towards a meeting-place

where Inspiration expands your Consciousness,

like the “wide-tail” of a Fish called Worthiness

that is one’s True Daily Bread,

the “lower-bench” where the “wick” of Inspiration burns

to “light the Darkness Below”, offering the “means”

to find one’s way to Dawn and the waiting embrace of Dis

whose “house” on the Island in the Firth, is Truth,

the “white linen garment” of Clarity

and the Seat of Judgment, the “upper-bench”

where one’s Worthiness is assessed,

one’s conduct and behavior while transiting Below,

such is the Test that Soul consents to,

living in the “house” of Life, abiding deep within,

but Soul is yet subject to the “bargains and agreements”

Life makes, be they an Oath to Dis, or to Odinn;

thus, Soul “fills” either with Light or Darkness,

and Spirituality rises or falls,

one embraces Atlantean Virtue, or the “feast” of Odinn

either Sylgja’s Inspiration, or Below’s Devolution

the Dawn of Truth’s Light, or the Ambition of Ego

the Garment of Clarity, or the “choices” of Propaganda

the Ship of Redemption, or the “trough” of New Order;

such is the “testimony” of one’s Worthiness

when standing before Judgment;

and a “worthy” Atlantean who is made of “brass”,

of “tested metal”, like polished Earth, now “stands-tall”

as an Exemplar of “uprightness”

who proffers the waiting Chair of Truth

to all who so Aspire, who “lean towards” Redemption

and “peep” at the Window of Truth,

who “linger” on the Bridge of Aspiration

seeing the Serpent Below, but in the distance

a curving path that rises high

to an overhanging promontory where Below ends,

cut straight across like a line with a ruler,

horizontal like a roof-beam or sail-yard

and dividing one’s white sheet of paper into Above and Below;

next, an equal vertical line bisects the horizontal

creating a center-point, the “Navel”,

being no less important than the lines

for it is the “pinch-point” of the “staffs” or “masts” or “wrinkles”

that make the Sign of the Cross

that is often painted or carved on stones or walls

as a reminder that the “other-side” of Physical Reality, is Spirit,

with its “ending” of Below at Dawn,

that is your Soul’s “share” of Redemption,

your “equity” in the Swan’s Heart of Mercy

and in the “drinking-cup” of Truth

that enables you to quest onwards to Enlightenment

whereby “you” become a “Vessel of Light”

“berthed” at Noon in the Fair Winds of Higher Consciousness,

soaring with the Eagle, Gullveig,

sharing her Perspective and Acuity,

similar to the Fish-Tail of Inspiration

but “partaking” of a “Greater Gift”,

a Oneness of Purpose that “embraces” the Cosmic Meaning

of the “breeches, the “glove”, the “pointed-hat”, the “long-cape”,

the “sock”, the “hood”, the “coat of mail”, the “bitter-drink”,

the “Oath”, the “top-hat”, the “short-cape”, the “collared throat”,

the “Ring”, the “Pendulum”, and too,

the “Dark Lord”, his “clerks”, the “thorny bramble”, the “dirk”,

the “udder”, the “Serpent”, the “haystacks”, the “torn-sleeve”,

the “corral”, the “assembly”, and the Spear of Destiny,

the False Oath that traverses “edge to edge”

being the Serpent’s “belt-prong” that “fastens”

his Belt of Devolution, his hemisphere of decay

that “moors” the Ship of Redemption to the Whetstone of Hel,

then tempts People with “spices” so they forsake Soul

and “pin” Life to Ego, then “nail it in” with Ambition,

ending Aspiration and replacing it with Aggression,

so Ego becomes like Odinn, a Warrior

ready to “strike” like a Serpent,

causing the enemy’s blood to know the “tar” of Darkness

that fills your veins with fear, then despondency, then despair,

having the “face” of Doom, knowing

your “time is up”, your “measure is taken”,

your “cupboard is bare”, your Journey has led to the House of Woe,

dooming your Faithful Quest over “hill and dale”,

your “estate in Life”, your “backyard”, “paying your dues”,

your “diary of days”, your “mark on Life”, your “part”,

your friends, your house, your “share”, your “showing of hand”,

your “youthful days”, your young-blood, your childhood,

your “brass ring”, your bracelets, everything sacred and dear to you

rushes through your mind as Death approaches

to pull you under the Cover of Darkness

so Life is “extinguished”, “moored” to Midnight,

to the “hollow-stump” where once stood the Sea-Tree;

yet, wonderfully, in a Light at the end of the Tunnel

you see “green grass”, a healing herb balsam

called Virtue that resides in a “small-box”, a “nook”,

a “corner” of Humble Life, being modest, unassuming, and gentle-minded,

both noble and serene, for one’s Consciousness is “expanded” by Sylgja,

the girl who is encoding this tale,

like a long and wonderful “walk”, or an “excavation”

that digs up “buried treasure”, or a “measuring-stick”

that assures things are in their “due position”,

or a “chalice” of oil that feeds and cleanses one’s skin,

and protects it from “burning” by the “heated protestations” of Propaganda

that would supplant Light with glittering Lies,

darkening one’s skin like Odinn’s,

preparing one to carry a Black Shield

as a Warrior of Darkness who combats the

Golden Eagle of Consciousness,

using the “power” of Anger and Resentment

to ransack Legacy and Lore, defeating the Lamb and the Lamp,

the Twin Cities of Atlantis, thus ending

the Golden Age of Spirituality

and beginning the Silver Age of the Serpent,

of Odinn’s brandished axe that slays innocent People

or makes them slaves, Egos, his “sheaves”,

his “husks”, his “haystacks”, a new “race”,

being creatures whose “yolk” of Soul is replaced by Burning Ambition

that desires only aggrandizement,

until that day when Doom brings Death,

just as they brought Death to Atlantis;

for Egos are Odinn’s “servants” akin to the “slaves”

they made of Atlanteans; so, as it were, the Time of Death

“began” when the Golden Age ended,

making Inspiration into a “serving-girl”

abused by her step-mother, Vanity,

who considers her “step-child” to be “deserving of Death”,

“aborted”, so she will never have to be “feared”

as the Rightful Princess whose “rays” of Inspiration

beam Light to Consciousness, expanding it,

making it “giant” so Life can “stand tall”

above the babble of Propaganda’s Lies,

like a “nose” that is set above wild, unruly whiskers,

or the Golden Eagle of Heaven’s Noon

soaring high above the Darkness of Below,

or treading to a High Promontory where Dawn

“holds back the Night”,

or the Heart’s “eddy” that pumps blood to one’s

“entrails and bowels”, its veins reaching out like the

“spines” of a sea-urchin, or like the many sentences

that write this long story,

or the complex rigging that manages the sails of a ship,

or the lightning-strikes of a thunderstorm,

or the arm-in-arm, and hand-in-hand camaraderie

of all People of Atlantean Virtue

whose Love and Affection is their “defense”

against Devolution and Persecution,

forsaking Ego, the “standard-bearer” of Odinn,

whose Life of Debauchery is reflected in their Serpent’s Face,

with hollow, hewed cheeks, and a slack jaw that can open

like a Serpent’s mouth to sate itself on “prey”,

as Ambition “hungers” for its “pedestal” of higher status

in the Hierarchy, so it “feeds” on the Darkness in the Trough of Below

to climb the Ladder of Success that is the legacy of Greed’s “breeding”,

Negativity as made manifest by Materialism,

a swarming, teeming, possessiveness that “adorns”

Doomed Life with “grave-goods”

in preparation for Death and Burial;

as it were, Ego’s corpse smiles wryly, thinking

“You can take it with you” and die with a “full belly”,

surrounded by “neighbors”, the possessions that

“lifted one’s spirits” during Life and “distinguished” one

from the Common People, who live modestly, and humbly,

like “peasants” having only their Virtue to “recommend them”

as being honorable and of good-counsel,

whose Soul Aspires to “abide” in Eternity’s Light;

therefore Life is a “temporary dwelling”, a “booth”

or a “tent” for Soul, such that

“it may come to so happen”

that Soul is Redeemed by treading the True Path

during its “short stay” in Life,

passing through Sylgja’s Door of Perception,

learning what Female Inspiration can bring to Male Aspiration,

helping one rise to the Prominence of Dawn

where the “kettle” of Truth awaits

to “brew” one’s Judgment of Worthiness

as a Man of the People, whose Life expressed

the “helping-hand” of Atlantean Virtue

that “nails” the “planks” of the Ship of Redemption,

and is the “helm” of Soul, such that it might “channel”

Heaven’s Grace into Life on Earth-Below;

akin to the Atlantean’s marked-out arrangements

of Foundation Stones whereby Virtue models Grace

and “predicts” one’s passage to the Doorway, and Dawn,

and Noon; thus the “wall” that divides Above and Below

is transcended by the Worthy who “exemplify” Cosmic Harmony

in the “tradition” of the early Atlantean Works of Wonder

that are “strongholds” of Virtue, abodes of Spirit

that “feed” the Soul;

like the Guard-Dog at Gisa

sitting at the Seat in the East

that speaks fluently of the Atlantean Concept

of “supporting and safeguarding” Cosmic Continuity

through Harmony on Earth;

being both “partners” and “donors”,

“gifted” and “giving”,

like a ship, and its wake

or a shepherd, and his tended, growing “flock”

that has no fear of Starvation or Death

or being caught in the Serpent’s Bog of Below

that is intended to “seize” the Faithful “sheep”

who travel the True Path;

being ferried on the Stream of Aspiration and Inspiration

that “Circles the Square” that is divided in half and on-edge,

forming an Upper and Lower Pyramid

that are responsible for the “ebb and flow”

of Positivity and Negativity,

like with Silver that conducts the “electricity” of Spirit,

and too, is the “currency” of Odinn’s economy Below,

his “fodder” to feed Ambitious Egos

who are always “on the go”, looking for the “greener pastures”

of so-called wealth, trying to gain Advantage and Favor;

thus “holding on to what is theirs” while seeking

“support and backing” for some easily taken “quick profits”,

or usurious money-lending, or risky commodity trading,

or similar “highly-leveraged” speculation that is a

“golden opportunity” to “strike it rich”,

to do “better than your father”, “proving yourself”,

being “master of your domain”, “king of the castle”,

a “go-getter” in the “green-grass” who is “sheltered” from harm,

having the “luck of the toss”, the “better-half”, the “safe-haven”,

the “lucky-strike”, such is the Whirlpool of Greed

that “hits it big” like a “charging bull”;

being opposite to Atlantean Harmony

that is generous, and merciful,

being “ready, willing, and able” to “relate” Heaven to Earth,

like a “farmer” who “works with” the weather and the seasons,

while “searching the sky” far and wide for “signs” of “changes to come”;

or a Cauldron that changes a “harvest”

of vegetables into a “nourishing soup”,

or Truth, abiding in its “cottage”

like a mussel, in its “shell”,

or a sea-chest, that has “washed-ashore”,

waiting patiently for its “rightful owner” to “feel its loss”,

like a farmer when the hired-help quits,

he cries out to Heaven, What now,

or when a log in a cabin-wall slips and

the cold air blows in through the leak;

but an Atlantean never “loses track” of Truth

and is never reluctant to pore through her law books

to find a vital citing that perfectly applies to this “case”

regarding a “descendent” who stated that he

“went through Hel” to claim his “inheritance”,

but ultimately “proved his Legacy” and got the Silver “released”,

thereby finding “peace of mind”;

like a cup of warm milk,

or talking to a priest, or the sound of rain outside,

or petting the dog, or receiving wise counsel,

such as “never steal or plunder”

“never break a promise”

“never block the doorway”

“never run headlong into trouble”

“never break the Circle”

“never take your eyes off the Guard-Dog”

“never slam the Door”

“never try to lift a Whale”

“always be hospitable and humble,

for Harmony is the “key” to the “writing-closet” of Truth

wherein the full story of the Ring of Redemption

is recorded as Lore, the “remnants” of the Golden Age,

a “higher” more honorable Age than this devolved Silver Age

of Materialism, where all conduct and behavior is “managed”,

supervised, overseen, and administered

for the sake of Advantage, the “means” of production,

revenue, and profit that effects the “victory” of economic order,

preparation, performance, and the granting and rendering of Favors,

that rob People of their fair “share of wealth”;

then, “take Advantage” of their “poverty”

to create a “Lower-Class” who are bundled together

in wretched shelters, like fish in a barrel,

lacking basic necessities; using buckets as privies,

so Atlantean modesty is compromised

by living like cattle in filthy pens,

being so arranged to facilitate “ruling them” and “steering them”

so their activities and occupations are in effect entirely “un-Atlantean”,

being like slave-labor, not independent,

not God-given, but the result of the Serpent’s Frown,

Odinn’s Agenda that “clips the wings” of the Eagle

so Spirit is “grounded”, unable to fly to Heaven-Above,

unable to find its rightful place in the Fellowship of Truth;

thus, unable to be filled with Atlantean Virtue

to reach Dis’ Dawn

to receive her “leave” to Quest unto Enlightenment

to become “nobody”

who speaks with God

and “reaches for the Stars”,

“flying like an Eagle”, being “launched” from Earth

like a she-wolf suddenly quitting her den,

or hot bread, quickly pulled from the oven,

or an Atlantean “captain” leaving his “helm”,

his “old command” with a now “laden ship”, leaving “port”

like a “loaf of bread” being suddenly “grabbed”

by a hungry Quester as she leaves the house at Dawn

to perform her own “mission” of Redemption

akin to the Atlantean Spiritual Missionaries

who are “Space-wayfarers” who “come by”

to help “border-planets” receive an “equal-share”

of the One Truth from their Cradle of Civilization;

thus, they settle and dwell in various worlds

“lending a hand” to native races

and “intermarrying” with them

to make them “Blood-relatives”

who also share a “Spiritual-bond”,

as it were, coming from the same store of “flour”

but being separate “loaves of bread”,

or coming from the same “sack of seeds”,

such that the Cradle of Life becomes a Wagon of Life

that travels throughout Space,

like Sylgja’s Inspiration sends Mind on a Journey of Expansion,

“falling through vast distances” like a “waterfall”

that then streams onwards at a leisurely pace,

like going through a Star-Gate

and suddenly having several paths to choose from,

leaving the roar of the “fall” behind,

like a flock of honking geese fading away

or church bells whose resounding echoes recede

or a vivid memory that eventually looses its freshness

like bread becoming stale,

or a great party of voices that suddenly quiets down

or a choir after a crescendo

or a squalling newborn who soon gently falls asleep;

thus, one continues onward

in the large Spaceship, for a new course has been “woven” in,

akin to the Inner Journey of earthly Questers,

they being like two versions of the same story

called the Growing of Continuity,

both having the Atlantean Saga at heart,

the same “sail” directing their course towards Light and Goodness,

so the Amber Necklace and the Star-Gate are twins,

both aiding the Journey of Redemption,

helping Atlanteans make their way through the “VastSea”

for the sake of forestalling Evil,

the Raven of Negativity

that “erodes” Positivity, and the Goodness

that “lodges” in Female Inspiration and Male Aspiration,

it being the Large Vessel

from which all Atlantean “cups” are filled,

like Sylgja fills Quester’s Minds

with enough “expansion” to “stand tall”,

being able to reach one’s share of Spirituality’s

Legacy and Lore, receiving the “Fair-Winds”

that are “tokens” of Truth,

thus proving with one’s own Inspirations

that Life is “connected” to Higher Consciousness,

like finding “gold-nuggets” in your “earthly-soil”,

the sudden gleam invites a closer inspection

by the Eagle Eyes that noticed its shining Light

and drew your Atlantean Spirit to it

with an easy, gladsome cheer

that releases you from the concerns and worries

of daily Life, family, friends, household chores, helping neighbors,

such that “one thing leads to another” leaving little opportunity

to focus on the burning “wick” of the candle, Truth,

that rests on the Promontory of Dawn,

overlooking Below where hardness, adversity, and severity

“bury” Life, robbing it of its “blessedness”

and its promise of Golden Light, becoming “fair to behold”

having the Fineness and Beauty that

Sylgja proffers as a Higher Consciousness

that you can “sink your teeth into”,

proving that it is not the Fool’s Gold of the Serpent,

not his hollow tree-stump of Hel, but the Sea-Tree,

not the futile “baling-bucket” of Devolution and Doom

but the Horizon of the East where Dawn’s Rising Sun awaits

like a Sitting-Bull by his Plough

at the End of the Earth where the Sun is “born”

from Below, like a fist poking through an embroidered sleeve,

or a fish, bobbing up to feed at the surface,

or a proffered engagement-ring, ensconced in a black-velvet casing

like a Shining Promise too “overcome” any foreboding Darkness

that might threaten one’s Joy with “snares”

that Serpent-like, brutally and swiftly entrap the victims,

like a sudden gust of cold wind that portends a dark winter-storm,

whereby a fallen tree-branch takes you from your True Path

onto a detour through the Great Estate of Odinn;

you falter but persevere though it feels like walking in sand,

then something grabs your foot and pulls like a sudden tide,

you are reluctant but thwarted and constrained by Serpent Venom

and coils that supplant Sylgja’s Inspiration

with a hollowness called Ego

whose “empty boasting” and “vacuous verbiage”

rip apart Inspiration, like wild gesturing that “saws” at the air,

Ego’s words and body both “bobbing and weaving”

like a Serpent, being mingled together in an “intercourse”

that will “produce” only dross and slag,

thus confirming the sayings, “Nothing in, nothing out”,

and “Lust is self-consuming”,

and “You live in the house that you build”,

and “People need people so they have someone to feel superior to”;

thus, the Common Man must hire a lawyer

to “prove” that his Virtue does not take a back-seat

to his occupation of “minding his own business”;

such as carrying a bundle of “deadwood” from the forest,

not wanting to kill a tree, thus ceasing its Lifeforce

to facilitate one’s “needs”

by “forcing one’s will” on that tree,

but not to help it or tend it

like a “custodian” would, seeing Virtue

to be akin to the “sap” in Trees;

so my house is made of stones

and no trees “called out” to Heaven

to be delivered from my “mighty axe”,

no death-toll was notched,

no order to attack and violate was sent out,

no place or thing was “wiped off the face of the Earth”,

no Trust in Common Decency was ignored;

thus, if you are “moved” by Life’s impulse to live and thrive,

you hear and heed its “voice”,

you see that “your house is in order”

with Cosmic Harmony, being earnest, and careful

to not “become like Odinn”;

thereby passing your Trial of Worthiness

and holding the reins of Dawn,

facing Dis’ Healing Light that “answers” Soul’s Quest

with trust, safety, and a Clarity of Mind

that is the “axle-tree” of Truth,

fitting one’s Oath with the “wheels” of Legacy and Lore

that supplement the Higher Consciousness

one received by honorably passing through Darkness,

Odinn’s Night that entangles and meddles with Soul,

offering Fool’s Gold for one’s Spirituality

and the “ale” of Propaganda for one’s Water of Truth,

Temptations, for your Aspiration

Booty, for your Harmony

Advantages, for your Virtue

Black Magic, for your Dawn

The Globe of Ambition, having “the world in your hand”

for your Humility,

the “roomy” House of Hel, for your Quest

the Garb of Odinn, Ego, for your Soul

Authority, for your Justice and Equality

Hierarchy, for your Redemption

Personal Assistants, for your Independence

Arrogant Certainty, for your Faith in Fate

The Twilight of the Gods, for your Enlightenment

Evil, for your Goodness

Being a Warrior, for your being an Atlantean.

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