The choice. V

The north pace I try.

The tears is its own weapon.

As it drops it is an icicle bearing all my years.

A sight on my eye colors of that boreal breathe upon my face.

Leaves every doubt, remorse and my devilry mucus shows up in my face.

My foot has numbed to its core.

Making this hobbit of a feet into a mid sized troll of 15 inch length and width.

As for my face all of my vein became blue to its core.

A life struck me,

where a viking  mistakenly took me as a horrid troll.

I lie in wait,

My mind was on a memory,

But a thought struck me with a palm sized,

Mjolnir broke and shattered all of me.

In one glance,

With no utterance of discrimination,

With no winded justification of prejudice.


Took my lifeless body and asked a simple one.

 “Do you yield?”

 A nod is all I can do.

In a leap of her kiss unto me.

We came into that hall,

Where no one is left behind,

All for one,

One for all.

Not in Aesir’s victory.

Nor Vanir’s way.

Not even all of Ymir’s wisdom.

Yes hereI shall stay,

where everyone fights and keeps the love of life:

Of mead and light to

which life happens for 

the sake of one’s cause,

to love not yourself, 

but the ones you hold and protect.






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