"Thomas Phelps" (ghost ridin' the WIP 'til it crash)

Started by RUNE, October 09, 2018, 02:19:52 pm

RUNE


I know that I hung on a windy tree nine long nights, wounded with a spear, dedicated to Odin, myself to myself, on that tree of which no man knows from where its roots run.
No bread did they give me nor a drink from a horn, downwards I peered; I took up the runes, screaming I took them, then I fell back from there.
The songs I know that king's wives know not Nor men that are sons of men.
So do I write and color the runes.

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