Yggdrasil, Norse Mythology Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

A tree so grand, it touches sky,
Holds all the worlds, passing by.
Nine realms it cradles, root and bough,
Yggdrasil, the ancient vow.

The gods they meet, beneath its shade,
Where laws are made, and truths are weighed.
By Urd's deep well, they sit and dream,
A flowing, timeless, cosmic stream.

Odin once hung, for magic's prize,
Nine days he watched with open eyes.
His horse, the gallows, so they say,
The tree that lights his mystic way.

Its roots reach deep, to wells of fate,
And wisdom's spring, where secrets wait.
To Hvergelmir, where waters flow,
The lifeblood of all things that grow.

Asgard's bright halls, Midgard's green land,
All held in its mighty hand.
A dragon gnaws below with spite,
A squirrel runs, with words of light.

Three Norns they weave, with threads so fine,
The destinies of yours and mine.
They water well the sacred tree,
For all to live, and all to be.