Wyrd
Poem (Canso):
Winding, weaving webbed worlds,
Wyrd winds threads like wicker,
stitching joy and sorrow,
shredding to the seams.
Death, the cold disciple
Defers his discretion.
Bringing down the blood-birds,
Broken down by battle,
Scattered by the spear-lords,
swallowed by the silence.
Valor fades as vapor,
Vested to the victor.
Cup-bearer’s contentment
courts contempt and cabal.
Thus the thread keeps twirling,
Threaded so thanklessly.