Four guardians sit at the gates of worlds,
Who know far more than they know,
Some sit, some stand, some rest beneath,
Their past are lost in the mist.
There is one who rests in the cold north wind,
Who was once a giantess of renown,
No name we know or when she was born,
But she was ancient ere man was born.
There is one who stands in the wind of the east,
Where the rainbow bridge does rest,
A horn to blow, a sword to swing,
And his parents do no one know.
There is one who stands in the hot south wind,
On the edge of the fiery plains,
Wait he does for the end of time,
When he'll march with a fire storm.
There is one who sits by a well, in the western wind,
Three daughters he had, three wells once known,
Nine mothers are known but a father has none,
And his sons shall be well known.
Down the Helway some will come,
To call of the cold north wind,
To rise from the grave and tell the old tell,
Of what will someday come.
The shining one at the rainbow bright,
The east wind does stand guard,
Before the bright city a city or brass,
Where they drink and laugh and flirt.
On the southern plains where fire rages,
And all the plains are ablaze,
the hot south with with a sword in hand,
Waits for the sun to set.
Heads will roll and then speak again,
With the voice of the wise west wind,
A sip from the well that will cost you an eye,
On the edge of the cold ice plain.
Four winds are blowing and will come again,
For compass will ever turn,
Their pasts are obscure and their futures ignored,
And few are there left you see.
Four guardians sit at the gates of worlds,
Who know far more than they know,
Some sit, some stand, some rest beneath,
Their past are lost in the mist.
~Muninn's Kiss, February 21, 2014