My identity bursts into tatters with a wink.
I am he, the one eyed, terrible deity.
He stares back into my eye and laughs.
How absurd that we are ever not one?
Lost in the dream of mere things, the tarrying-alongside of this life, absent-minded to the knowledge that every thing is all of the time what it is. Infinite.
And then my Lord shatters my mind with a wink and a laugh. My eyes return to ice when he rides me, ice and blood.
Colour shifts, sound becomes strangely rich, and the tang of taste has a different flavour when his experience arranges my senses.
His voice uses my throat differently to the way that I use my throat. It is uncomfortable at first, but I am grateful that my Lord laughs plentifully.
I am a suit of clothes, but when my wearer is absent I forget and think I am more than just a mantle.
I feel the cascading, coruscating light of his presence. It rides from my balls through my bones, a burning-white serpent that leaps from my crown an eagle, fermented honey in its mouth, jilted lover and raging giant in its wake.
He is so much more curious than I! Where I forget the spirit of things, he is engorged with the wealth around us.
Teaching me, reminding me, returning me to my memory.
See through my eye, he whispers, the eye in the Well. And you will recall the richness of the world.
Break, he laughs, and go under.
Go under and shatter the ring of the Valknut.
Poem by H. A. Laguz.