I had a dream, so long ago.
The She who’d come to my rescue on the battlefield when I died.
Not a Valkyrie, though she looked like one, because she stayed with me through my final deaths, just to hold my hand and tell me all is well. That what is happening is not scary. It’s not out of time. There was an epic battle, and I fought well, but now it’s time to let the mortal wounds fulfill their purpose, let the inevitable happen, so I can live again.
Rise up. Rise like the day, rise unafraid, high like the waves, in spite of the ache, so that I can move mountains again.
She shows me my true family, and reminds me I am not alone. I am helped and supported. She sings through all this. And her song will only end, when it's over.
She sings a creation song of Spring and Flowers that live again, when they must and not before. I must let the darkness do what darkness is here to do, she reminds me of the Void from where all things were originally created, birthed from darkness to light. I’m just about to be born again, here in the same door as the Death that will take me shortly. ‘Who do you think you will meet in that Door?’ she asks me.
This is the most beautiful death anyone who’s been fighting for what they believe in could ever have. The mortal wounds and the blasts are far away now. And how I wish for peace and quiet now.
She speaks words of such depth and vibration no one ever has, words I can finally hear with my Heart. What He has told me a hundred times and made no sense to me, She finally gets through to me, and I know the words are exactly the same.
I feel relieved at last knowing this, that was wrecking my head, leaving me helpless, powerless, victimized, lost in a labyrinth with no exit. Unable to show kindness, love and patience. Because I never understood. I never understood.
It is such with perfect timing, and everything has purpose. But know I know. I understand. I accept and surrender. Let go. Open my heart at the same time. Such is the balance. I’ll always be here. I hope he knows. He knows. Waiting for better times. So I have to live again. I have to. She sings me whole. Sings me alive again. I can only patiently wait for the regain of flesh and blood and life in me again. She sings while holding my hand, and she never lets go.
Darkness comes upon me and I close my eyes, but know exactly where I will open them again. I can taste the Flowers and smell the Ocean.
I see a pair of blue eyes I know well. There’s a pile of small rocks under a Tree. I know who left them there. Perhaps that’s where we’ll meet again. In the Spring. When Winter has passed. And we’re amongst the living again.
‘She’ is (perhaps) named after Iðavöllr. It certainly feels like Ragnarok was just here.