An Old God Ode

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Co8Qo4hTyb4

Oh, how sound the drums of forgotten gods;


How thick blood runs at the gate of forgotten dreams

And how heavy the pump at the thunder of an old world beat.


Oh, what magic;

What bygone ruin,

What loose of madness,

What euphoric cry of druidic havoc

And stampede of war-dogs amongst hurried panic.


If only one could drink the myth as they do the sound.

If only the ripples of the near extinct still echoed within the ground.


How the Bacchantes would howl at the hollow of bersærkergang,

How the Maenades would rave between honeyed rivers

And how swift would Sleipnir descend and deliver

Behind the thunder of Mjölnir's beating hammer.


Oh, how the Nornir would weave,

Passing thread to one-eyed Moirai

And laughing the way between.


What a sight it would be,

What rhythm across the hills.

What a tremor it would set beneath

To behold what terror it might instill.  


Oh, how sound the drums of forgotten gods,

How flightless resounds the call.


Oh, how sharp the rake of Fenrir's claws;

Oh, how wide the gape of maw


Before passing of the extended hand

And the most illustrious trade of all.