(A Journey of Odin’s Beginning)

The path starts here, O wide-eyed wanderer,

At the bare feet of Bestla’s hem.

She weaves her songs into your thoughts,

Igniting the hunger for more.

At her lap you learned humility —

That magic is not determined

By what skirts hide from the world.

 

The path starts here, O battle-torn wanderer.

How far have you traveled from home,

From the vision you once held when you were called young?

Is it here, in the bloodied fields, you longed for more —

To trade your title for the journey you walk now?

 

The path starts here, O weary wanderer.

Your outstretched stride meets cobbled stone;

Dust of distant lands still clings to your boots,

Now kissing these hallowed roots.

With question still burning inside,

Longing for more —

To enter one way, and leave another,

Embracing both the light and the dark.

You narrowed your vision for true sight,

Leaving a memory in Mímirsbrunnr.

 

The path starts here, O resolute wanderer.

Were you afraid of what must be done

On the day you felt Gungnir’s kiss?

In those moments, hours, days —

You sacrificed it all,

Leaving behind the paths you once walked,

The “once was” of whom you’d been.

Was it from Yggdrasil’s arms

You shed the desire to know —

And in turn, succumbed to being taught?

Touching, at last,

What once lay beyond your reach.

 

The path starts here, O humbled wanderer,

Though your journeys have been long.

 

No longer a child of wonder,

Nor blood-stained warrior

With no more pieces left to give.

 

You sit now as a pupil

At the foot of a woman once more.

Surrendering to Bestla’s greatest lesson —

That knowledge and magic judge not a being by its form.

Knowledge and magic hides not from those who seek them,

Nor bow to the limits of mortal norms.

 

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