AS YET UNWRITTEN
The men of many wounds sat round
the crackling fires of flashing light
the harp was played on strings of gold
sweet herbs were strewn beneath their feet.
And when they sat as one at feast
and raised their flowing drinking horns
their ears were thirsty for the tales
of fearless deeds of mighty men .
Of men who swung their sails to wind
and slew with swords that sung as sweet
as any maiden left behind.
In awe they heard the sagas told
not written down for few could write.