Thursday, December 22, 2011

The Hobbit

O say that Northern spirit still divine within our Western Walls resides! For there is hope within the embers not yet passed that we may light the hearths again! And that is food for toasts! Let lift the wine, in silver-rimmèd horn, to lips, and spill the words of praise that honor Gods of wizards, One-eyed’s scions sleek and oaken-strong! I hear the baritonéd voices of my forebears chant their galdurs! Raise they rhythms, luck-bestrong, from holy hel’s deep doors of dawn, where they may share, from meadows’ blossoms, all their treasures’ broadest heartsong! Tales spun gossamer by fairy’s flight in flit through skull-song, quill-bedreaming, summon all the buried hopes, and let the soul be sung again by men! This lore is spell, may spellbound be the sons of ash and elm, to feel their roots and raise their branches high to sun’s encrystal-shellèd cobblestones! From heavens high to hel below and all between in middle earth, may what is whole and holy live again, and take rule of this world forevermore!


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