Delicate destruction poised with tension moves on
Mingling in dandelion seeds it quivers
A balance set for gods, giants, slaves and lovers
We sit along the coastline, sharing future words
Drinking cold into our souls while in the heat cloud
Moments of rare rest in the building of this nest
Walls of sanctuary rising with the windmills
Sunset fire quiets each of our whispers slowly
Dreams and tears of the past fall before real beauty
Our mistakes stand bared and red on the errant rocks
Our futures lie hidden in a far-off bubble
Apprehension is fleeting before the visions
We long to help those trapped within the ending world
Remember that survival is hibernation
Dream of helping when we awake prepared to live
A campfire circle becomes again our chronicle
Nourishment in words and memories preserve now
A way of life lost, missed and held as a charade
Good events and warnings reach high in oaken smoke
Will we be as Lif and Liftrasir, safe within?
The forest holds this kind resting place in her arms
But has she grown from the roots of Hodmimir’s wood?
We dance our awkward dances and await the burst