Freya

(Introductory comments: Freyja's first love was Her Twin Brother Freyr. When it became necessary to choose another for a Mate, She married Odhr ("frenzy", "heat", "furor", "sensation"). Odhr was given to wandering the Worlds in search of knowledge, but before His ultimate wandering He and Freyja served their Pantheon as High Priestess and High Priest in those rites that the Gods make to Those even greater than Themselves (the Ginn-Reginn, or "Great-Mighty-Great"). This poem flows from a vision of Their searching together for the realm of the Ginn-Reginn.)

Now is the time, Soul of My Love,
To let shine Thy longing from shadowy shore,
To draw it forth from that dreaming lake,
Waxing mighty, and wanting Mine Own.

Remember Thee well the first night of Our love
Beneath the bright Moon when Our Souls met in beauty.
Soft was the strand between meadow and mist—
No further that night did We fare
But together We tarried in joy.

Bloomed Dawn above Us, a Rose in the East;
Held We fast to Each Other in new-found love.
Besprent with dew did We gleam in Our glory,
Bright was the Morning Star on Our brows,
Silver-blue set the Moon over Munarheim.

Let Us now kindle from flame We have kept
As Godhi and Gydhja of the Great Troth
The Fire of the Mighty, first in Our minds,
As Brísingamen gloweth between Us.
Call We to come all the Ætts of the Elves:
Of wind and of water, of mound and of stone,
Of wood-wives and swan-women, dísir held dearest,
The good grims of falls and of fields, and to follow,
Those who have fared through Folkvang’s Gate,
That all vow with the Vanir in offering
Sworn as We e’er and anew to honour
The Mighty Ones’ realm, hidden and holy,
Here in Sessrumnír where Harrow We hold
By the well-springs of Life’s Fire flickering.

Sweet be the smoke from amber arising;
Cool be the Waters of Life e’er flowing;
Brave be the birch, to birth anew bringing—
Kind are the kisses that come with that cleansing!

Brightly now burneth Brísingamen’s coils
As cast is the Elder Fire’s Ring all around;
Wild is the joy to which We are given,
Gold shineth the beauty in which We are bathed—
The Great Ones give Us of Their Godly gifts
Of wisdom, Seidh-sight and Our Craft e’er mighty.

Rideth again the Moon full o’er the feast,
Sweet and still are the stars all turning—
Many and mighty are love’s rades below
As We too seek that world from Sessrumnír.
Again let Us hallow Our Harrow of Love
Waxing hot with the Holy Fires,
Writhing with hunger Our tongues wildly burn
To feed on the Wod of Our need.
Thy Blessing-Wand wield to bestow Thy joy,
Mine Odh, lend Thy breath to My tongue
Burning sweet with the fiery mead of love,
Golden-bright from My goblet, My flame.
Drink deep and be drawn into wanderlust wild—
I shall drain Mine Own draught from Thine horn held high
Lest I leave Thee so longing alone and aloft.

Ablaze with the brew of My blooming—
Thy Craft that brought Kvasir to being—
Long shall We dare in Our dreaming—
May the Mighty Ones smile on Our seeking!
Wing-cloaked, claws close, We cry out in Our flight—
Let Us fare forth to find Them once more
Talons held tightly together,
Wings quivering, keen for the hunt,
Thine heart to Mine woven in wildness as One,
Lyke to lyke, Our Souls linked in Love.

By these moments of madness in lives to love given
Stirred are Our Souls between stars and stone.
Arise, Mine Odh, with Me into the night:
No longer bound by any blindness
We see the Welkin’s flowers unfolding.
Between them webs of light are woven,
Fair strands in starry fields to follow—
The paths We have sought now shine before Us!
Thy breath bloweth through Me as wind through an harp
Without which My fires would sadly wane.
Let Mine holy heat lift Thee high to the heavens
As spiralling sparks on the smoke
Glowing golden on silvery strands.

Wing We now westward from Vanaheim’s vales,
Sunward, and sweet is Her warmth on the wind.
Wend We now close by the cloud-borne keeps—
Wide-blue and Far-reaching are My Brother’s realms
Of Alfheim, and Gimlé e’er glimmering.
Behold, far beneath whistle Thrymheim’s winds white—
Waves wash cold on that Jötun-strand,
Now soar We high on Hlyrnir’s bright hues—
Flickering and dancing that heavenly hall
Of spires doth enspell Us with beauty.

Come, Mine Odh, let Us fare forth together,
Blown onward, joy filling Our wings,
To seek on wild winds that highest of songs.
Turning e’er toward Topmost Heaven—
Wind-woven Our road winds to unknown heights,
Daring all o’er the deeps below.
Remember, Dear Odh, how We sure knew the way
To that Shining Shore as Our fires shone forth,
Entwined on the lake of Our longing?

The wind in the harp of the stars now is still;
No more wafteth that song through whispering strands,
Fey and haunting as higher We fare.
Cloaked in cloud is the road that was clear;
Our way only shown by the wan glow
Of Alf-beam through gathering gloom.
Remember, Sweet Odh, how plain was the path
To that Bright World as loving We lay
In the mists beneath Munarheim’s Moon?

Full deep into darkness Our dreams are borne,
By no light may Our longing be led.
Waneth Our hope now to reach that high realm
As roiled is the sky beyond reckon.
Our wisdom will not the Vanir avail—
Trust We now in the Wyrd of Our Love.
Remember, Mine Odh, in the name of that night
How We marked well the road to that realm!

One spark do We spy amid lightlessness—
The sweet tongue of Life’s Fire, golden in gloom.
Make We through the mist for that mark
As We hie back to Harrow and Home.
Fly We now close in the clinging night,
Wing brushing wing, Our breaths hard by,
Lest We be swallowed in swirling gulfs
And lose Each Other to emptiness.
Betake Our bodies the brightness around
Borne flowing, not flying, to Folkvang,
Together entwined, clasping close in Our tears
Of joy in Our holy joining
Before the Fire of Life e’er burning.

One night that Wondrous World We will win;
One night will the Mighty Ones’ paths be made plain;
One eve will They open Their ways with the Wheel,
Deem sweet then Our daring, smile on Our dreaming,
That We know Shining Oneness as on that night
In the mists beneath Munarheim’s Moon.

Till that honeyed night, once more are We sworn
As Our Godhis and Gydhjas ere now and always,
Together to seek, together to soar,
Together to fare to that farthest of strands,
The skies to scry, the Well-Springs to ward
And each year the Gateway to weave in this wise.
Though e’er They return Us to sighs and sweet tears,
Still We sail through the starlit and misty seas,
Going e’er to Ginn-Reginn, Our wills true in love:
The offerings made and the Great Troth kept
As the Harrow-Fires burn in Sessrumnír.

Artwork by Andre Kosslick.