The Nine Realms
(Artwork by Andrey Shishkin)
The Nine Realms
I am a traveler, stopping ‘ere the way.
Come, sit, I shall tell you of the sights-
I have seen and the lessons I learned from each stay.
For the dreaming of the Realms lives inside each one of us-
And such magical doors we all must learn to unlock.
Through the might of deeds, a magic in us grows;
With each door to the Realms we wish to know.
I have seen the great spires of Ljosaflheim,
Adorned with the splendour of kings-
And bright tapestries woven by heroic minds.
I have walked the markets and enflowered gardens,
Where the Great Ingvi Freyr treads.
Blithely he strides among the greening way,
Pausing to ask a stranger stop and stay.
While hearing of all they have seen in other realms.
For the Lord of the Vans carries within him;
The power to impart, all who wish to learn of a hospitable heart.
For the key to this realm is to aid the heart of Man
In word and deed to support the Divine Masculine.
And from the Land of the Lord, I have traveled
To the Land of the Lady Fair, sweet Vanaheim’s Vales:
For the Lady’s great realm is full of wild forests
Dark and Magical, green and lush;
For all becomes life at the Lady’s Loving touch.
And Dagr rises high with Sunna in Golden skies
As great tree ents lumber in a green golden shade.
Her realm is a realm for all who love life-
And sweet adorned flowered vales and hills-
Are unlocked in word and deed to support the Divine Feminine.
And far beyond the green vales, lies the Wild Jotunheim.
A Mountain region full of fierce magic and need.
A place where beasts not seen since long ago-
Roam and roar with the fierce winds that blow.
For the icy wastes are soaked with the power of fury and might-
To fuel the beasts of battle who carry that light.
Here lays the very power of tribe and blood’s plight.
The slain fields protecting hearth and home,
And the magic that follows in the wake of where savagery roams.
For it’s entrance fee is a toll on the heart of man:
He must brave that which he fears most to open the keys of that land.
Then Far to the North, beyond the crystal skies-
Is the land of stillness and Ice, the Magical land of Nifleheim.
For here, the very land is enrobed with ice and starlight-
Where only moonlit skies shine.
Here the dark shades of all Realms roam.
And deep in caverns, under layers of ice and stone-
Lay the seeds of new Gods and unborn realms.
For all come eventually to the land of Stillness and stone-
To find where their magic came from, and how their soul-
Was freed once from the icy depths of the ream of all becoming.
Many travel here and are changed from such knowledge-
That only ice and stillness can bring.
And the keys to this realm lie in the very magics we weave:
For pursuing one’s personal magic is the door you seek.
From the plains of ice and darkness, rises the mists of great Helheim:
This haven realm for all souls broken and needing rest-
After long lives lived and the pains that growing can bring.
Within this changing Realm, cities rise and fall as souls dictate;
Like wavering smoke from sacred fires, the land fluctuates and moves to contain-
The dead from all the realms as they seek-
Loving wholeness and oneness of their being.
And the dark Lady who rules this realm,
The goddess of Death is our Guide;
Both Fierce and Loving she helps every soul find-
The very thing the heart yearned for in Sweet Death’s release-
Into this twilight Realm of Resting Peace.
And far from the dark shores of the dead and Nifle’s icy wastes-
Is the Land of Fire and Becoming in primal Muspelheim.
Here the spirits of fire and transformation writhe and burn.
For the siren songs of the maidens of fire,
Have lured many into an untimely demise:
As they burn the fires within the heart and the mind.
Here is the land of all stoked passion-
And all unbridled addiction and lust;
For to survive these fiery plains means that one must-
Learn to tame the yearnings within-
Lest they grow wild with hearts of fire and flame.
For the fires of Muspelheim, sparked the very fire of Life,
And was harnessed by the Dwarven Lords of Old;
For they harnessed the flames to fuel their dark forges,
Where all spellcraft and magic is wrought into form.
For deep in the heart of the caves of Svartleheim,
Lies a secret than many men do not know;
That the concepts of language and tools were wrought in these lands,
And that they shaped the very thoughts and minds of men.
With the aid of the Gods, the Dwarves built the magical halls,
For all creation passes through their hands.
And even while the poet and artist with Dagr inspired light-
Owes the bones of his craft to Dwarven might.
For to enter this realm, one must unlock the creator within,
And aid that magic in word and in deed.
One must learn to create something new in this world
With the harnessed Muspel fires summoned forth from within.
Then far above the fires of Muspellheim, rests the realm of the Gods;
The wondrous shores and mountains of Asaheimr.
Much like Midgardr, this realm is a collaboration-
Of every soul that passes through.
This realm is born from the dreams of countless Gods;
Fully aware of what they are and sovereign in their own power.
Where their Oorlog is all their own and fate is but a tool to wield.
Each wanderer is a world within a world,
Like wheels within wheels,
Asgard souls dance together in harmony.
The key to this holy realm is through our Midgard life
For once a traveler knows who they are and how-
Their lives unfold in this realm,
Only then can they open the key to the heavens.
My dear friend, the keys always rest inside.
Each of us contain a set all our own-
And the journey to find them begins with Midgard's plight;
For learning the bounded realms of our hearts-
And becoming our true selves amidst the rivers of disbelief,
Is the only way to discover the keys that rest beyond locked doors.
Dear traveler, never you despair.
For if you find yourself locked out of the realms you seek,
And if the harder you try, it seems you travail more.
Simply call upon the gods of the realms
And strive to become the door.
- Christina Marvel
