was weaved across the changing lifelong moment that is the second that becomes our past, our present, from nothing but the seed of tomorrow and today

Mike Koontz
Jun 24 · 2 min read

What is time
and life
but
to
day

the changing present
of past and future

we count it by the second

this living
breathing
crossway

weaved and made
by endless
paths
turns
and hills

grades and crescent


Wrapped
like chains and lingerie

never stale
and sultry yours

to wear, enjoy
discard
explore

revere
and love

scorn
appreciate
and slow caress


ere while
the birds

of
the wild

born
a feather
sing
to tunes

of sunsets night

the moon which fluent whispers
ancient hymns
of pipers paid
the wolven chase


Here we walk
like we are

ancient guides of Northern realms
Vikings
was our old name given

but
for today

we guide

and lead,
escort you down
roads entwined
with bridges, trees
a forlorn path


of intersected doors
wide divide
and open spaces

laid and changing

stones
become

scuttled rats
and
ferrets small

Scurry fast
like velvet oil and mjolnirs thunder


Caught between
mountains high
the
sky high towers
of pine and birch
and oaken trees

steel that glisters
sand and glass
man-made buildings


oft a thought
like bubbles

of moments born

on its own
a spirit free

dressed in green
beneath
the sky

pale blue rise
a wayward sun

with
shadows long
cast upon
a bridge of unturned stone


Now
at last, here we meet
this old man
lost, confused
with beard
in tow
hanging
like
the wayward son
a waterfall

he calls himself
wooden, son of all

born a dream of Freyas flower
but now he stands
alone perhaps
a wanderer
he calls himself
with memories
obscured, forgotten

except for thoughts
of Fenrirs fangs

his own wounds

deep
that gushed
pulsate and bled
from inside

wall streets
tomb


the world they built
had failed them all

Against this past
that lingers on
here we are
short and tall

you and me
in
this moment

tis
the night of sleep
and daytime dreams
we hear them sing
the ravens' call

like a pack
of shield wall maidens

midnights sun
at last
now
burns


upon this place
of northern lights

it will
not set
until the farmers
auburn
harvest
comes along


Put together
like black holes
and speeding neutrinos
this world
soon

becomes a seed

The endless weave
like a wave
from tomorrow, our present dream
of
what's to come

pastures green
from far beyond
the gates
of someones
Ragnarok

but today
right here
and hereabouts


we live
with wolves and bears
lakes so clear

summer 2019 walk across the fields and forest of hoga kusten, Scandinavia

beyond2c

From the northern halls of the Vikings home comes this tribe of creative heralds. Writers, poets, photographers, creatives, great thinkers, fitness geeks, and experts. There are no stones and thoughts, and creative adventures left unturned in the pages of Beyond2c.

Mike Koontz

Written by

Author & Photography. PT, health & fitness. Science and sustainability advocate | aNorseView.com , Scandinavian.fitness.

beyond2c

beyond2c

From the northern halls of the Vikings home comes this tribe of creative heralds. Writers, poets, photographers, creatives, great thinkers, fitness geeks, and experts. There are no stones and thoughts, and creative adventures left unturned in the pages of Beyond2c.

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