Day VII. To Máni Mulinn

I greet you White Ás with the obsidian face,
and eyes that see into the most secret places of one’s heart;
Mock-Sun they call you, Máni who has forgotten
even how to laugh. You are near to exhaustion
and ragged from running, weary from the weight
of the suffering worlds and ready to just let
the devouring void overtake you. But you don’t.
Even if we can’t see you in the sky, tomorrow
or the day after we shall glimpse the curve of your blade
as you rush once more into the frenzy and din of life.
But tonight, rest. We will stand vigil through the long night
and keep the wolves from your door. Drink, eat,
refresh yourself wanderer; always will you be welcome
in this home of ours.