Odins Mead Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The sky wakes up, a gentle light,
Odin stirs, from dreams of night.
A horn is raised, a honeyed gleam,
Mead of poetry, a flowing dream.

From Kvasir's blood, a magic brew,
To fill his mind with visions new.
The sun climbs high, a golden thread,
Odin drinks, and words are spread.

Across the realms, a whispered song,
Of Viking strength, both right and wrong.
Each drop a tale, of gods and men,
A new day dawns, begins again.