WyrdA Poem by Francesco Vitellini«Wyrd bið ful aræd» (The Wanderer, VI sec.)
In freezing ice-caves, plunged into spirals of eternal mists, they don’t consider, nor do they ask, those who weave. Yet, there still is the choice, everlasting struggle for subsistence, what I am leads to what I’ll be and what I’ll be draws what I am.
The wheel turns with every step, yarn of ethereal thickness, every turn is spooled suffering cold and fair ordeal.
When one enwines with many -no longer blind and deaf " advancing in the relentless deathly journey towards the supreme ring giver. Brethren come back on their shields from the desperate chevauchee, always weaklings, cravens maybe, but surely clouded in lustshrouds. © 2012 Francesco Vitellini |
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1 Review Added on May 18, 2012 Last Updated on May 18, 2012 AuthorFrancesco VitelliniMilano, ItalyAboutBorn in Germany, I'm living in Italy since 1986. more..Writing
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