The Skald
He is old earth and a handful of stars
Carved in the likeness of man,
Given breath, and breath’s command
Of a voice like a hundred deep rivers,
Versed in ways that winter keeps
And grayer magics, that sleep
Forgotten beneath lands of fire and ice.
The price for ancient wisdom
He wears like ancient custom
And knows the scars as faces of his god.
Flawed by time and filled with grace,
Youth is fled—and in its place
Undying beauty, etched in mortal guise.
Wise man, poor man, jester, prince,
And lady fair all come to glimpse
The hourglass, the mirror of his gaze,
Each praying for a favor
Or the chance to gain an hour
Of distance from the ravage of the world.
Turn by turn, the answer comes
Deep as a hundred rivers run,
All rising from a blue heart hidden high—
Fly, though the earth may catch you.
Fight, though the times may best you.
Live, knowing all may crumble in the end.
Gently the river speaks, then,
This, above all that has been--
Love, and you will know immortality.
Carved in the likeness of man,
Given breath, and breath’s command
Of a voice like a hundred deep rivers,
Versed in ways that winter keeps
And grayer magics, that sleep
Forgotten beneath lands of fire and ice.
The price for ancient wisdom
He wears like ancient custom
And knows the scars as faces of his god.
Flawed by time and filled with grace,
Youth is fled—and in its place
Undying beauty, etched in mortal guise.
Wise man, poor man, jester, prince,
And lady fair all come to glimpse
The hourglass, the mirror of his gaze,
Each praying for a favor
Or the chance to gain an hour
Of distance from the ravage of the world.
Turn by turn, the answer comes
Deep as a hundred rivers run,
All rising from a blue heart hidden high—
Fly, though the earth may catch you.
Fight, though the times may best you.
Live, knowing all may crumble in the end.
Gently the river speaks, then,
This, above all that has been--
Love, and you will know immortality.
Submitted by Summer at 5:33 PM
2 Comments:
Oh allow me to be the first.
The italic iteration at the end really binds the ends of this work, really brings it home.
What strikes me the most about your works, and this is no exception, is the truth with which it is conveyed. There seems to be this obviousness to the sentiments once they're out there, as if it's something that has always been said, or should always have been, and your ability to find that sentiment, put the words somewhere, and then to understand when you're done saying it is a gift unparalleled. Very impressive.
God Damn.
and I don't say that lightly. I've been searching back for posts that I missed in the last 6 months of internet debaucles, and this was a real treat.
The first line itself is enough poetry to sit and savor for awhile. I agree with my nemisis that the italicised lines at the end, they really tie the piece together.
The images really strike home, and the idea of this man sinks deep. I love the earthen way you portray the fact that age beautifies, and that there is glory in the withering.
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