some silent eloquent poetry;
rippling in clear water
with the glinting vestiges
of a dazzling
I brag about
the two crystaline pools once I saw;
kissed by the moon’s star sprinkled skies,
purged of vice these gleaming guileless eyes,
Time’s silver trammeled serene in that
I hear the wind,
the breath of panting dreams
whistle that name, ruffling nature’s mane,
the sunlit fields of grain in a jaunty game;
the golden hair of Sif trimmed with that
I kneel before the day’s last bud
on her glint meshed deep blue mat
ere Atlas turns the Day on her head,
so the mat becomes a star bedecked hat,
and sub rosa unfurls this godsent
I salute the stars secretly laid bare
down whilom rank, raven black hair.
That hueless lustre, Time’s proud authorship,
the first earned badge for a stellar membership
won’t dim aflutter, full fledged fellowship
I’ll to the stars take with me
the only thing I owned about thee:
thy budborne name swaddled in petals’ lullabies;
watch it grow on stardust where a nebula lies
till it blooms into a galaxy of
Can’t beat time, as I of flesh made be.
When eventually of bark be free,
then to the stars
shall I take the vestiges of thee...
I believe the speaker’s heart is perfectly laid bare on the sleeve. However, I feel obliged to relate the myth of Sif’s hair since the ‘name’ of the longed for person is focal in the poem, and it is exalted with an allusion to this Nordic deity.
Sif is the beautiful wife of Thor famed for her nonesuch fair hair in Norse mythology.
One day, Loki, the trickster son of Odin, slinks in Thor’s house when he is away. He chances upon beautiful Sif sleeping with her fabled fair hair temptingly spread around...
He can’t help pulling another of his tricks and steals her hair. Long story short, Thor isn’t dim enough not to guess as to who the culprit is. Odin intervenes a possible fratricidal theocide and commissions Loki to compensate for the havoc he has wreaked on Sif’s head because, as the myth would have it, no hair will grow back on whilom ravishing Sif’s head.
Loki finds the most reputed dwarven smiths, sons of Ivald, and has them fashion Sif new golden hair fairer than her her natural hair which has gone with the wind. To the amazement of the deities of Asgard, Sif is more beautiful than ever with her new hair!
As the gods acknowledge sons of Ivald to be the best in their craft, a servant dwarf by the name of Brok objects to this in the halls of Asgard and pronounces his own brother Sindre to be the best goldsmith. Loki wagers his head that Sindre will not be able to outshine sons of Ivald. Brok is given to proving this and getting the head of a deity... And alas, he does so accordingly... He brings to gods three invaluable testaments to Sindre’s superiority. A golden boar that runs faster than all the horses, even the day, Draupnir (the dripper): a breathtakingly alluring ring which multiplies itself to eight copies every ninth night and the third, and the best testimonial gift, Mjolnir (that who smashes). As you most probably know, it is Thor’s famous hammer.
So, what happened to Loki?
Don’t always trust gods’ words. :)