Tales of Gemüt Biergarten

pon the pale light of a midwinter moon
Ominous black clouds roil and brew
A shrill trumpet heralds the hunt
The All-Fathers host splits this cold night

Hooves of thunder, Flashing steel
Chill winds whip the writhing trees
Forgotten gods’ servants, 
Coax dark spectres from sodden caves
Bid, Woden! Lead them, tonight!

Fire wards night, attend the hearth,
Traverse not those hallowed roads
The midnight raid, a grim reminder
Our past returns, pray the Dead do not

heltered in the roots of the World Tree
Where Death’s vemon flows
Her Hall, Sleet Cold, She Rules
Hel, Goddess of Death!

Giantess! Sorceress!
The inglorious dead do serve
Alongside the indolent Idler, her thrall
And the languid maidservent, Sloven
Holding Famine, her knife
And Hunger, her dish

Hel welcomes the infirm, the aged
The wicked and the rightous
Earnest souls, we turn our backs
From the weight of the living world
To Her cloying, rotten embrace.

unlight streams over endless golden fields
wheaten plenty, dance gently among soft winds
distant melodies of harp and lute
A chorus plucked upon the lyre 

Freyr’s tooth gift, the gilded hall of Elves
teem with life and Satyr’s laughter
Milkwhite doves preen and flit
among unseen heights, burbling waters cascade
Into shimmering pools of stone and gold 

Sun forever shines on this glittering realm
where light elves play and muse
Inspiring the arts of man and nature
The Luminous home, Alfheim!

y all-fathers task
Gifted and shrewd
Two, set to fly 
Everyday over Earth

By mid day return
Tales beseech His ear
Of war and death
Of love and birth

His messengers paired
Of Thought and Mind
For one’s return is fearless
Yet the other, could be lost forever

irst dew, fade this tundra soil
Till and turn, for seed grants promise
Reach deep, root and green
Winter sets, commence this springtide

Woden’s equal, the Wheel and Sun, She commands
Her two steads of dire task, pull the sun unburnt
Earlywaker, Allswift, with spellbound hames
Sunna, through game and burden, drive Her chariot
Outpace Skoll ‘till night, to harvests end

For a scratch from Skoll
begins Twilight of the Gods
yet unscathed, Her true gift endures,
To harvest crop, the grain of springs sow

ppression reigns, a people persecuted
Their mouths cry out for a protector
Vengeance for the widows and the children
and all those who cannot defend themselves

Ancient, forbidden rites give life to clay
An incantation long forgotten opens its eyes
a golem’s unfinished substance etched with Truth
from the riverbank it rises, towering and hale 

The giant servant, deft at punishment dealt
Unthinkingly betrays his creator’s will
Truth becomes death, soul is removed from clay
To return when the innocent call for justice