Our Saga

Many moons before the Anglofolcrün, like many others I was lost and confused.

Adrift among different ideas and concepts in our materialistic and lonely world.

I travelled from faith to none, even becoming rabid for the technical, physical world.

Signs and omens were dripped to me from piercings by hidden gods.

Wisdom from drips to Mimir's pool, a font of revelations.

Drawn like gravity closer and closer to the Norse gods, to embody the warrior of the Viking age.

Yet, I could not see the bottom of the font, the threads knotted and paths still misty.

I flayed and lashed out at those who had a path, that I couldn't follow.

Still numbed to the warmth of the gods were sending.

Omens in the material world withdrew like the tide from the wyrd that the gods had been calling me to.

Runes were revealed the weaves and ripples that make the patterns form.

Mist faded, the path cleared, weight from shoulders released.

I learned to listen to the gods, to split from the ways drawn to the past.

Grow from the acorn dropped from the mother tree.

learning knowledge from the past to walk a new path.

Not revival, a quickening.

Alone on the path, bolstered by the songs of the gods of the past, each guiding threads of fate to be woven, to clothe and warm me on the path.

Gatekeepers looming by the side, gaps in walls shining light to guide more steps on my own path.

Resonance, the hum of power and rhythm, a folclore to be grown new.

Searching as Woden frenzies to find a solution to Ragnaroc, I wander on.

Empowered by the memetic patterns of the gods and runes I delve into the wells of poetic wisdom.

Be enhanced and bolstered by our path to bring our Ealddryhtcynd (Old Scared Kin) forward where we can be open and together as a sacred host, wandering and learning.