I've set the words. Cast them here in stone, and sky - In sound, jelly (once stone). There, just an arc above the edge, I've cast these words in spells - in scripture, skin and yes, even blood. I've pried open skulls and read The hieroglyphics, golden-masked in language dead (I said 12-17 words at that time - pried, forgotten).
With dead mens' hearts all held to the sun, apparently foolish, rash, and also young (and living in yet another shadow). We asked Mimir, "NOW LIVE! And tell us what it was like under blue skies and white-moon nights, when the breast was still bare and the milk made shiver. Tell us then, how you came to be here?"
And thinking back... LORD, how we killed to live - to eat. And how we died, just to be alive. LORD, we ate illusions and death traps. Christ, how we made love with hot blood in our veins and the feeling of FULLNESS for the fear of PURE death! GOD, how we died again and again, only to find that we cannot BE death. Oh, many tried. Good Lord! They chose warriors, those Valkeries, while Thor chose a fate like ours saying, "Lightning split YOUR skull, and burnt YOUR heart!" - They never knew what hit them.
Well, the flowers withered on the vine, as all seem to do, and the sun eventually went out. Again, for the umpteenth time, it is speeding past the edge shining brighter than ever. Ho hum.