Sons of a New Age

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A.N: Now this poem is the twin of last week’s nugget. I originally wrote it first, but when I was planning the schedule for this month’s uploads I was hit by a strong sense of “Ladies first”. What can you do? Similar influences on this one, although Völuspá is obviously more influential. I don’t know, it always bugged me how -apparently- the only female figure to survive Ragnarok is a human woman. I mean, more power to us mortal ladies, but wouldn’t it make sense to have a goddess survive as well? I suppose Hel and the Norns do (hard to imagine the universe functioning without them….) but it is not explicitly stated. Hence last week’s pick-up-the-slack-in-the-background poem, while now we have the front-and-centre-stage point of view. Hardly an optimistic outlook but in my defence, bitter poetry is how I remain semi-functional in the real world.

Sons of a New Age

Under the golden roofs of old

The children of tomorrow fumble

With their fathers’ chess pieces

Strewn anew in freshly-grown grass.

From the fiery ice and blood

The saplings sprout again

The sons do walk their forebears’ footsteps.

And below them all the dragon sleeps

In old-age glory nestled

Till the roaring sound of arms

Wakes them once more.

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