Poem: Dísablót (’23 & Us)

Fornax on this Dſsablót

rally ‘round these stars of mine

bless the wife that bakes the bread

guide the hand that feeds the Goddess

let Frige’s maids draw back the veil

and fare the Queen back down to Earth

splendid on her sparkling throne

from Heaven called with us to sup

we give her gifts of bread and milk

that she our fondest wishes hail

and tend the ghosts of mothers’ dead

so that the Norns can weave their thread

and yield new life up from the dead

a paltry gift we muster her

besides the banquet she deserves

we hope to hear the mothers’ song

as flesh gone to Earth does sing

the Idises on the wind transformed

whispering from the Well of Urd

come now Frige, and eat your fill

let us bless and honour you


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