Canto I · Vinit
The Rune Gnosis
to be recited while hanging on the wind-stripped branch, nine nights, without bread or mead
᚛
ᚠ
᚜
Ginnungagap — Before the first rune was carved
Before the breath, before the wound,
the yawning void holds all that will be spoken.
No rune has yet bitten the spear's shaft.
No raven has flown from the All-Father's shoulder.
Thus I begin. Thus I am unmade.
I
Bind
I bind myself to the ash-tree's trunk.
No rope holds me but the need to know.
The serpent Jörmungandr circles the nine worlds.
I am the ninth world, hanging in the gap.
What I seek, I become the seeking.
II
Descend
I descend into the well of Mímir.
The frost bites my feet. The dark water drinks my sight.
One eye falls into the silence.
The white mead rises to meet my wound.
What I was, I drown in the knowing.
III
Rune
The Norns split the single thread:
Urðr — the past, the root already grown.
Verðandi — the present, the edge of the knife.
Skuld — the future, the debt yet unpaid.
Three strands braid around the tree.
What was one fate, I sunder into three.
IV
Ascend
I climb the roots toward the high branch.
The mead of poetry drips from my lips.
Each word I speak becomes a rune.
Each rune becomes a world.
What was drowned, I lift into the air.
V
Fuse
The Norns reweave the three threads into one.
Past, present, future coil around the spear.
No strand is lost. No strand is separate.
The tapestry breathes as a single serpent.
What was three, I make one weave.
VI
Weave
The runes sing in order:
Ansuz speaks the breath of the All-Father.
Kenaz burns the torch of the seeking.
Raido rides the road between worlds.
Eihwaz is the yew-bow of death and rebirth.
The sacred alphabet threads the gap.
What was scattered, I link into a chain of knowing.
VII
Fix
I carve the runes into Gungnir.
Each stroke bites the spear's shaft.
No wind can wear them.
No fire can unmake them.
The flying knowledge is fixed in the world-stone.
What was carved, I lock beyond forgetting.
VIII
Bind
The runes recognize the carver.
I am not the one who found them.
I am the one who became them.
The spear is my tongue.
The tree is my spine.
The well is my open eye.
What I sought, I am.
ᚠ
The Closure of Yggdrasil · Tanch
The nine nights end.
The branch holds me still.
The ravens Huginn and Muninn circle:
Thought and Memory return to my shoulders.
The vessel its contents,
The contents, their vessel.
Solve et coagula. The rune is the knowing.
ᚠ The Gnosis Is Spoken ᚠ
The Grammar Flows in the Wound
So Be It.