Ancient Religion. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Across the lands, the People prayed,
To spirits strong, a world they made.
For hunts to thrive and harvests bloom,
To push back dark and banish gloom.

Each tribe with ways both old and deep,
Their sacred rites they vowed to keep.
With furs and food, a humble plea,
To powers felt but not to see.

Then Shamans rose, with knowing eyes,
And gifts received from starry skies.
To read the signs and guide the hand,
To calm the storm and heal the land.

Like tales the strangers brought from far,
Of heavens bright and Lucifer's star.
Of souls that rise and find their rest,
A holy book, a chosen priest.

Yet shadows fall, a different view,
Where earth and sky are bound anew.
No wall to build, no gap to cross,
But kinship felt, no sense of loss.

For every plant and every beast,
Held spirit bright, a sacred feast.
A web of life, both grand and small,
Connected close, embracing all.

The guardians watched, a silent guide,
In nature's breath, divinity hide.
Unlike the world the others knew,
Where earthly stained and spirit grew.

Tor M.Solvang