Sail away with me; come sail away with me; fight with, for, or against me with honor;
Rocking violently encased in metal on heavy seas, still safe, peacefully so; like some kind of Zen Buddhist ****... (peaceful frustration). The journey might **** us. Though We still get to go. That's what it means to fight, 'till Valhalla!
Our pilot may doubt us but not in our endings; there is no room for doubt come our last day. Come Valhalla!
Crushingly optimistic he's our steam roller baby. He pilots because he has to, because we are finite, Because the premise of our story is that it Begins and Ends no matter who's doing the writing or The Dying or finding or lying or even The Killing. Our course is set;
Forget the word mistaken at your own peril on the open waters. Mistaken, this is a world full of Peril. Still, it matters for naught at The end, not for us princely warriors. There is a place where all geodesics Collide, where you and I can finally embrace without Malice. For where we would have arrived is Valhalla! Great hall of the dead, where wars leaves its warriors to dine among gods and forget they were men.
"What sort of dream is that, Odin? I dreamed I rose up before dawn to clear up Val-hall for slain people. I aroused the Einheriar, bade them get up to strew the benches, clean the beer-cups, the valkyries to serve wine for the arrival of a prince." Skáldskaparmál