Sacrifice and Wisdom in the Womb of Yggdrasil
In the heart of cosmos, Yggdrasil stands tall,
Cradling Asgard in its branches, the mightiest of all.
Home to Aesir gods and goddesses, a fortress grand,
Where Odin, the chief, with his keen eye, scans the land.
From the Well of Urd, Yggdrasil takes root,
A pool of power, where fate’s seeds shoot.
The Norns, three maidens wise and old,
Carve runes into the trunk, their secrets to unfold.
Odin watched from high above, with a longing in his gaze,
Yearning for the runes’ wisdom, caught in its blaze.
To know their power, he hung himself on Yggdrasil’s limb,
Stared into the well’s depths, at his own peril and whim.
Pierced by his spear, without aid or drink,
Into shadowy waters below, he continued to sink.
For nine long nights, he balanced life and death,
Calling to the runes, with his every breath.
On the ninth night, shapes in the depths did swirl,
The runes had accepted his sacrifice, their secrets unfurl.
With a scream of exultation, his ordeal was done,
The mysteries of the runes, by Odin, were won.
From a word to a word, from a work to a work, he grew,
Fertilized by knowledge, his power anew.
He could heal wounds, bind enemies, free from chain,
Put out fires, banish darkness, and wake the dead again.
Thus, armed with the runes, Odin became a force,
A mighty being, steering the cosmos’s course.
His tale echoes in Yggdrasil’s whispers, under the moon,
A reminder of the sacrifice for the gift of the rune.
