Yuletide Eve As Viewed by Loki in The South

The Southern land
clear lapis blue. Shroud of light. Vapor of prayers.
Ashes of us will be scattered.
So sunders the age of gods and Jötnar.
But arise from ashes! cunning, frail human
on this goodly frame, Midgard, seems to you a barren headlands and womb, look!
All created not from Ymir’s carcass, but with
nature and geometry!

The stained glass freeze all prayers,
this brave, miserable colourful figure, a majestical pillars fretted with snow and fire, carved with marble, their heart-wrenching idols!

This god will make you even cry.
And from cry-heart, you will kneel.
What a magnum opus is man!
in apprehension, how like a god!

So you will die. I die. My son,
mountains, river, trees, my kins in Ironwood.
Angrboda. My love.
But it's justified to start a beautiful world
only with a frail mistletoe dart
piercing through the sun's heart.

Christmas Eve 2022