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Upon my head I bear the Helm of Darkness,
That I may see beyond deception’s light,
Sculpted dogskin, graced with wraith wings,
Aita’s chasm shadowing me from sight.

On my right arm is the stalwart Aegis,
Athena’s shield of dauntless mirrored scales,
Under the protection of countless serpents,
Cradled in glassy coils, so I shan’t fail.

In my left hand I carry fatal Gungnir,
Odin’s spear of war’s screaming discord,
Etched with runes along its faceted blade,
Reminding me of soul’s ultimate flaws.

Behind me is a cloak of opal feathers,
Falcon’s wings folded upon my back,
Frejya’s freedom to love and to leave,
Fallen, not to fly, but carry me to attack.

On my breastplate, branded blackened omen,
I bear Marduk’s Tablet of Destinies,
Of gold and silver entwined together,
Upon which I’m bidden write eternity.

At my hip I wear the Gjallarhorn,
Of sacred bovine, Heimdall’s treasure,
Guardian, that the winds whisper to me,
Sacred breath of ice, to hear Ragnarok forever.

Wrists bound and fettered by the Gleipnir,
Chains of glass, fragile but immutable,
A weight of memory, debt’s limitless duty,
Words of honour, by my tongue, irrefutable.

About my neck, the necklace Brisingamen cursed,
O beauty of gold and amber, Freyja’s gift,
That I may be loved, but never loved,
For fear of losing myself in liar’s mist.

In a pocket, the Smoking Mirror kept,
Tezcatlipoca, talisman, shrewd magus lurking,
In another, Fang of Quetzalcoatl, serrated dagger,
Woven magic, cyclic chakra currents working.

Nine fingers, nine rings, spawned of Draupnir borne,
Of nine Heartstones, colours, precious metal,
Elements captured, Echoes sheltered in palm,
As memories broken free begin to settle.

One thumb upon which a tattoo is scribed,
A Mark of Fate and Essence, reminder mine,
Gifted by the Father, that I may not stray,
The direction I take, be always defined.

The venomous Eitr, precious Ichor,
Through veins stained black does run,
Blood of Kingu, spilled in my being,
Sacrificed all to the eternal Sun.

On my right from nine deep Narakas,
Stands a daughter of the gatekeeping Garm,
White daemon guide, glorious hellhound,
Countersoul who steers me from harm.

On my left from sky’s wheeling blue shield,
Son of the Sun and all its piercing rays,
Coaxing me to open my heart and mind,
And ponder the depths of all mortal days.

To bear me in times of crystal’s frailty,
Comes Sleipnir, haematite stallion of eight,
Whose mane spins threads of living ice,
Claimed by Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, Fates.

Before me fly nine corvids, dark as Tartarus,
Under obsidian eyes of Hugin and Munin,
Their cries weaving the web of primal night,
To shroud Moon’s slow waxing and waning.

Beyond me prowl nine wolves of silence,
Fenrir’s family, Chance, Sons of Loki all,
Guarding me from time indecipherable,
When they will sing, I heed their lonely call.

Within me lies Tiamat’s bitter ocean,
Skidbladnir’s golden hull, aloft the waves,
Carries my spirit from swarming benthonic depths,
By child of Ouroboros I shalt moreover be saved.

Without me burns ring of Muspelheim’s fire,
From rising Phoenix, mate of Dragon immortal,
Scorching pearl upon my flesh branded true,
Marked to walk through mirror’s mysterious portal.

Under the World Tree, the grand ash Yggdrasil,
I sleep and dream, by world’s helical axis,
Where I watch branches and roots spread ever wider,
And hear the hissing of Nidhogg, O sacred aspis.

Golden apples, honey of healing knowledge,
Are all Gods have me granted pick and eat,
Showered from the soft hands of Idun,
That disillusion I shalt eventually defeat.

And Mimir’s Well, of ancients, only fountain,
From which I’ll ever deign to drink,
When I peer at my wavering reflection,
I must beware that I don’t slip and sink.

Smiled upon by Sun’s blessed warmth,
Of golden skin wrought, and liquid light born,
In spectrum split and sacred white cocoon,
I’ll wake passing ages to breathe the morn.

Across the Bifrost, plait of crystalline rainbow,
I pace, twixt ribbons of elemental flame,
Awaiting the day of it’s destined shattering,
When naught left standing will be the same.

Footprints of burnt mercury do I leave,
In my wake, by Moon’s back, as I search,
Tracking answers to silver tongue’s subtle clues,
While noble owl of Athena governs from her perch.

By Valkyrie’s Oath, I wander in shadow’s company,
On path of indigo silk, under lantern’s star,
Valiance, Sirius, thee eyes of dawn and dusk,
Horus, take me in tears shed, to places near and far.

Marching to Bast’s drum of lioness’s heart,
Under banner of Astarte’s gryphon, I now stand,
For Ishtar’s curt words of flawless battle I rise,
And throw myself headfirst into unknown lands.

While Ashur’s dust falls with words I utter,
Of Artemis’s bow, arrows set to life’s flight,
Which seek decay and illusion to justly splinter,
And restore my third eye to unclouded sight.

All these aspects I bear, they are myself,
Mirror of the Gods and spirits long crafted,
From realms forgotten dredged by Net, anew,
And into mirror’s growing army, finally drafted.

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