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Odin’s Ordeal

Nine days.
Nine nights.
Speared by his own hand,
     he hung silently
     on the tree at world’s end.
The cosmic winds were tearing
     furiously at his bones.
His mind was spread out infinitely
     in the reliquary of time.
He waited breathlessly,
     every fiber surrendered,
     every flickering thought
     hovering in the nowhere
     of the ever-present moment.
He, single-eyed Odin,
     waited dispassionately
     for death to end
     and new knowledge to burgeon.
All was as it will be.

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