no wind, no waves

Odin's Ordeal

by Georg Feuerstein

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.