The Allthing

Tried and true this verse

Hauled to Hel by hearse 

Morbid movings lurch

When piling on my work

Unrolling sod for sleep

In slumber the eyes recede 

Linens stripped in earth

Living on what I urn

Bones, a canopic grief

Ash rubbed for sacred seeing

With those risen who have taken pause

From the Otherside of our thoughts

Crag locked on moments peaked

Silver-sight the After breems

Marrow stripped of being

Seiðr visions prick the weaving,

A bone whorl becomes tongue-tied

When focused on the spinning.

Signs and thoughts intended

A moment tethered and invented

Where the Nithing left by a crooked cut

Killed the name that it surrendered.

Looming spindles fated threads

Woven in the winter that it held

Quilting over colder months 

Wrapping the advancement of the self.