Mountain Song

Beyond the mist that men do fear to pass,
Past oceans deeper than the sky is vast,
Across such leagues too rugged for the vain,
There stands a peak upon a pristine plain.
A mount like none have seen since ages past,
When Gaia, young and full life, did dance
And twist and turn and from her womb gave birth
To mighty ranges that now crown our Earth.

This peak is new, its crags untouched by time.
Its jagged lines confront the sky, defy
The winds. They are not yet made blunt or soft
By ceaseless wear. And slower than a snail
Can crawl but faster than the seasons change,
This mount still grows by leaps and bounds, emerging
From pristine plain to fill the land and reach
Its hand towards the moon and sun and stars.

Far past the point where trees don’t grow, among
The clouds, those cousins of the mist that men
Do fear to pass, twixt pinnacles of stone
That shine with newly fallen snow, there lies
A lake, enormous and unfathomed. Ice,
As clear as amber, thicker than an oak
Tree’s tall, and cold enough to freeze the Reaper,
Does rule these waters and stills its waves.

Among the bitter cold and swirling mist
No living creature hopes to be, yet on
The ice there runs a soul on paws that just
So barely feel the chill. In hazy sun
And under argent moon, the dance of this
Descendant of old Fenris weaves across
The frost, the steps laid down by Freki, Geri,
Who bring them from the One-Eyed Chief Wodan.

Around the beast of spirit, fur and mist,
The blowing blizzard spins about and wails
Its songs unto the sky and frozen lake.
The howling wind bestirs the beasts beneath
The surface, calling them to glimpse the weak
And strangled fingers of elusive light
That penetrate the ice. Each song calls forth
A different brute from ebon, endless depths.
From Dragon flushed with righteous rage, aflame
In even the most frigid waters, bursting
And roaring out the glacial vault,
To Titan, strong and single-minded, with
His mighty spear emerging, piercing through
Whatever obstacle dares stand against
Him; Sons of Gaia and Ygdrasil, called
By songs that blare and scream and pound, are freed.

More subtle creatures come when hymns of light
And eerie strains are spun by lupine paws.
The Ravens, brood of Hugin, Munin’s heirs,
Will flock to cracks that seem too small to see
And find their way through labyrinths in the ice.
The Siren sings along, her voice relaxing
Ice to flow like tears and flood the land,
Volcano dripping soothing crystal drops.

But winter winds push back the beings and slow
Their movements, arctic chills congeal their blood
And freeze their thews, and from the dark abyss
Reach umbral strands to curl about their forms
And pull these champions of the mount back down
To twisting passages and through the lightless
Corridors that honeycomb the rock.
So endlessly this dance repeats, alas.

But yet some fabled day is whispered of
When spring will come to mountain high above
When ice will melt and streams will run again
And beasts from foot to highest peak will reign
And Wolf will end his frenzied summoning
With much relief, and cease the wind from moaning
With strain. He dreams of peaceful slumbering,
But such a day is very far from hand.

-D.M.D.M. 4-27-07