This is an experiment of sorts, I was trying to get a better feel for Norse mythology, I guess you could say from the inside.
The skeins of our lives are woven by the fates, but the threads of our being are spun by the long-mothers, our mothers and grandmothers back through eternity. They place their full love and hope into each strand for the joy and happiness of each that shall follow them, and prayerfully the tears of the Long-Mothers flow.
Loki is the trickster and his minions spin threads of their own and the fates are blind to the colors that they add to the skeins of life they spin and back from the skeins the colors seep to stain the brightest. Some to be washed away and others hopelessly set, and in love and lament the tears of the Long-Mothers flow.
All begin golden but in the fullness of time colors and hues find their way into their threads, black bitterness, crimson rage and blue despair tarnish the gold, and many lament the gold that they spin is wound with strife and travail, and to wash away the tints and hues of Loki the tears of the Long-Mothers flow.
Smooth strands of woven gold, dark angry threads, dull hazy threads of doubt, black threads of despair wound together by hands unguided by sight and perhaps they too lament as they blindly mix the threads of lives and joys and despair. And in hope the tears of the Long-Mothers flow.
But the fates are oft guided by loving hands that push aside Loki’s lots, and gold be mixed with gold and friends and loves are bound together by the hands of sightless fate, for gold to gold fuses eternal, and in deepest joy for those that stand in the light of the sun do the tears of the Long-Mothers flow.
© 2009, Tim Boothby. All rights reserved.