A visit to the Well of Mimir

Far Faring, Again...

A journey man, I have become,

Upon Midgard, and far beyond,

By Sitting Out, by writing down,

By Looking In, by thinking up.

                I have eaten, rich words of Lore,

                And drunk my fill, from Wyrd's deep Well,

                Been warmed right good, by Wod's bright flame,

                They sustain Me, my Might, my Maegn.

I lost my Name, as sleep took me,

Across the Gap, twixt Wake and Dream,

We traveled there, Me and Myself,

To gain new Thoughts, to gain new Words.

                Through darkling wood, o'er rough cut stone,

                We strode along, our eyes in gloom,

                But glowing moss, gave bits of light,

                So steps were sure, upon that ground.

The way was straight, almost a road,

Alike, unlike, another path,

We well have walked, beyond Midgard,

To seek Yewdales, and Wise One there.

                But this Land was, not Where we sought,

                No wolvish cries, nor nip in air,

                Nor thickets green, with yew trees leaves

                Nor snow clad peaks, to greet the eye.

Shadowy wings, pale grey and wide,

Soared overhead, against the stars,

Glided, silent, at edge of Sight,

A teasing hint, then gone on Wind.

                Was it a bird, looking for prey,

                Nighthawk seeking, owl hunting,

                Or passing shade, of Helbound wight,

                Pausing a bit, ere moving on?

Is this Helroad, we pause and think,

Or other Road, to other Place,

We must go on, for Voice inside,

Does say to us, discover Me.

                We walk along, the path smooths out,

                And green of grass, does replace stone,

                And trees flesh out, as false dawn glows,

                Promise of day, helps steady heart.

After some time, we find a mere,

In oak girt glade, neath westry moon,

Tis broad and long, and banks are sloped,

A gentle lie, to water's edge.

                The verge seems mowed, not trampled down,

                Under foot are, many bloom worts,

                The air is sweet, with scent of them,

                Tis heady stuff, sets ears abuzz.

A clear, cold pool, like crystal fine,

Its bottom free, of stone and plant,

No fishy shape, swimming about,

To shadow cast, and mar its depth.

                No stream flows in, nor out again,

                Yet surface moves, in rolling swells,

                A spring must feed, the waters here,

                Which go out, an unseen way.

A sign of life, across the lake,

A mannish shape, strides neath the trees,

He o'ertops us, by many ells,

His shoulders broad, as longship's beam.

                A few steps he, does pause from us,

                Looks o'er we two, then waves his hand,

                Then I, alone, stand before him,

                All atremble, despite warm wind.

I think his name, but say it not,

His face is grave, as he does nod,

And says to me, you may know right,

Or other wight, I could be, too.

                If for a drink, you've come to Well,

                Then you must know, a fee I'll take,

                You must have heard, the Elder Tales,

                Of others' ways, to pay the Gild.

If you have come, on other task,

One bound by Word, which tells of Deeds,

This too is good, for all do come,

Into this vale, into this pool.

                Gladly would I, speak long with you,

                About the ebb, and flow of Words,

                A river wrought, by all of Deed,

                A worthy seep, into this Well.

The water's sound, did raise a thirst,

A need I'd had, but not like this,

I felt as though, it had been years,

Since water cool, had passed my lips.

                My mind did whirl, about first thought,

                That I might drink, from this Wellspring,

                And be Full-wise, beyond my years,

                Beyond my Mind, beyond Myself.

I tried to think, what could I give,

To pay the Toll, and gain a draught,

To slake the Need, refresh myself,

To give to him, that I might gain.

                I knew it must, be something which,

                Is truly part, of deeper self,

                I must reach in, and find my core,

                Of Heart, of Mind, of Thought, of Me.

I stood and thought, and thirsted bad,

What could I give, what did I have,

And then it came, a small idea,

A man of words, should give his words.

                When all is said, and all is done,

                All that I do, for Folk and faith,

                Is not for you, nor anyone,

                Save the man that, I have become.

My name and Worth, Life and Orlay,

Is all of Me, and no one else,

For in the end, it comes to this,

I'll be alone, on Helroad walk.

                I do not think, this is selfish,

                Increasing me, in manner right,

                This helps my Folk, my strength is theirs,

                And theirs is mine, while I do live.

I feel sometimes, old beyond years,

Worn down and drained, by burden borne,

But I chose it, and willingly,

Shan't set it down, til breath is gone.

                I cried aloud, as Wind rushed by,

                I AM, I AM, That is the thing,

                The heart of Faith, the heart of Life,

                No other words, are truly Full.

His finger dipped, into the Pool,

And wet my lips, a little bit,

This slaked my thirst, did quell unease,

He smiled, said, t'were wise your thoughts.

                It seems you have, drunk from this Pool,

                Or other Spring, which feeds from This,

                Your self Insight, is goodly mark,

                Of flowing Wyrd, which quickens thought.

For best it is, to know one's self,

To know one's life, and one's own mind,

To be at peace, with one's own heart,

To be whole and, to be, and BE.

                For Wit may come, from inner place,

                Or outer test, of dread ordeal,

                But Wit must come, if one is to,

                Become whole man, and build one's worth.

You have found right, and wholesome words,

To show that you, are part of All,

That Place is known, with Folk, in Faith,

For common Weal, for common Good.

                I thought to speak, give other Words,

                He raised his hand, and stayed my voice,

                You've said enough, for taste you've had,

                Beyond such drop, no man should go.

I found myself, upon the Road,

The dale well hid, behind my back,

I walked along, to cross divide,

From dream to Wake, rejoin Midgard.

                My open eyes, drank morning sun,

                And sight of home, and sleeping wife,

                A sense of weal, came over me,

                I started day, lived more of Life.

A journey man, I have become,

Upon Midgard, and far beyond,

By Sitting Out, by writing down,

By Looking In, by thinking up.

                I have eaten, rich words of Lore,

                And drunk my fill, from Wyrd's deep Well,

                Been warmed right good, by Wod's bright flame,

                They sustain Me, my Might, my Maegn.