Volstead O Vodeo Do - Robert Calvert

There had always been the unearthly dark

of fathomless absence

until, from the south, came Muspellsheim’s

inferno of flaring yellow flames.

And then, from the North, came Niflheim

where legions of freezing shadows lurked.

The abyss was crystalled by the Northern frost

that breath from the burning south made melt

and from this fusion there was made

the towering troll: immense Ymir.

From whose slain body’s blood the sword of Odin

caused the oceans.

And from whose carcass he claimed

the Earth.

Man-trod Midgard was all his flesh.

From the bulk of the bones were the moountains made

and from his tangled hair: the trees.

His hollowed skull was hauled to form the vaulted sky

where the Gods assembled constellations;

in their cauldron Alchemized the sun.

To runic wands of task it turned until,

at last, the first veined-blade of grass had grown.