Dreaming in the Dragon's Eye

I sailed into a triangle,

the eye of the dragon.

My finger of Yod pointed East

to a land of winged serpents

grinning in their song time.

Last night as we sat around the fire

in the roundhouse, listening to stories

of the old gods, I saw their faces

in the flaming breath of Nidhogg licking my toes.

I met that dragon at the end of Helheim

when I rode the aurochs

past the dead washed up on Nastrond's,

shore of corpses.

Wolfish seducers grabbed at the hem of my cloak.

I pushed on, the mighty aurochs would

not stop for any dead man, and Nidhogg laughed his

fire breath in my face.

The serpent's smoke drifted up into the thatch

through the central hexagram that was holding

the roof with the power and protection

of One Eye.

Odin slipped in through the door

on a gust of wind. I could see him

when the hot log jumped out of the fire

as the skald spoke of Ragnarok.

“I have come to lay my binds at your feet

and loosen their tension.

With them step into Hrungnir's heart

and melt the stone that lies there into gold.”

I drove home in driving rain

to lie dreaming in the dragon's eye.