Echoes of Asgard

A Skaldic Journey Through the Realm of the Gods

In realms of old where Bifrost gleams. Stands Asgard bright with golden beams. Where gods and legends weave their lore. Amidst the halls of ancient Thor.

Majestic walls, tall towers rise. In Odin’s gaze, the wisdom lies. His one-eyed glance sees far and wide. With ravens black by either side.

Mighty Thor, with Mjölnir grand, Lightning’s fury in his hand. He roars and storms across the sky. Defending realms with battle cry.

Loki, trickster, sly and keen. In the shadows moves. his laughter was seen. A mind as sharp as frost’s first bite. In cunning ways, he finds delight.

Joro, Earth’s child, gentle, wild, In her embrace. The land is mild. Her strength, a whisper in the breeze. A force that brings the mightiest trees.

In Asgard’s heart, we gather near. With awe and reverence, none but here. To walk the halls, to hear the tales. Where time’s own essence never pales.

Beneath the Yggdrasil’s vast shade. Where Norns spin fates with threads well laid. We find the essence, pure, divine. Of gods and men, where fates entwine.

Valhalla’s halls with echoes ring. Of heroes past and deeds they sing. Their voices blend with gods’ own might. In endless days, in star-filled nights.

To meet with Odin, wise and old. A tale of life and death retold. To stand by Thor, in thunder’s roar. A bond of kinship evermore.

With Loki’s mirth, we learn the ways. Of mischief’s charm, of twilight’s phase. And Joro’s peace, the earth’s own grace. A gentle touch in this vast space.

Oh Asgard, realm of gods and song. In you, we find where we belong. A timeless beauty, fierce and grand. A golden thread in myth’s own hand.