The Song of the Firebird

The wren has flown

and danced herself

into the Firebird.

Returning to the cosmic egg

white and light filled,

the spinning vortex

churns a great wind

to flame the burning fire,

releasing the energy

of creation and transformation.

The egg cracks.

From its delicate shell

emerges the most beautiful


The wren is transformed

with golden flame feathers,

flecks of the sun glinting across her back.

Her black jewelled eyes offer such depth

that the knowledge of life itself

is reflected within them.

She stretches her wings

full force and takes her first

flight of freedom,

soaring as she never soared before

from wren to phoenix


She circles over the great hall

and sees her human skin

laughing with her ancestors

in Sessrumnir.

Frejya's hall is filled

with love and light, as is fitting for a

great mother, for a grandmother.

Her beauty is immeasurable.

The river runs outside

bringing more guests,

an endless flow.

Ancestors come and go

greeting, living, laughing

as life goes on in the face

of death,

on both sides of the veil.

The dark horse rears,

mane flaming in hoof dust;

Paskadi sees the Firebird land

in all her glory

and knows now that he can

return across the mountains

to his home in the North.

His work here is done.