I had a dream today about this story, so I wrote it as a poem. I hope you like it.
At the dawn of time,
In the chaos and the wild,
The spirit of all nature
Found the Verdant Child.
Twas after Yggdrasil formed
Midgard and eight more worlds,
After all creation;
All life had been unfurled.
And Yggdrasil watched over
All things as they were made.
Ensuring laws of Physics
And Nature were obeyed.
The Mother Tree checked over
All creatures as they birthed,
Counting limbs and organs
To see that they would work.
There, amongst the monsters,
The flora and fauna wild,
She found a wailing creature,
Inconsolable child.
She looked upon the infant
And held it in her hand,
And searched out its potential
As the Norns would understand.
The child’s aura glowed
A healing verdant green,
Meant to grow in Midgard
To create as no other being.
But something there was missing,
A key, important part.
This child could do nothing
Without its missing heart.
Yggdrasil called out
To each wild and noble creature.
She sent all out to seek
The infant’s unknown feature.
Every plant and monster
And animal of the Tree
Searched through all nine worlds,
For what they could not see.
Each being came back at last
With nothing there to show.
The World Tree simply waited,
For what, she did not know.
A great quartet of stags,
With antlers branching high,
Approached the Mother Tree,
And with a bellowed cry
They begged of Her forgiveness
For failure they did find.
But Yggdrasil just smiled
And reached for their antler tines.
Caught in the bony points
Of the stags’ tangled crown
An essence never seen
Was weaving all around.
The Great Tree pulled the wisp
Out from the antlered maze
And, upon the first soul,
Did all creation gaze.
The Tree of Worlds then took it
And placed it in the child.
It filled in what was missing
And Yggdrasil then smiled.
The verdant child grew older
And passed its soul on down
To every human being,
To be our mortal crown.
The soul lets us see as gods do,
To create and live and grow,
And channel through us wisdom,
Troth, and Honor show.
The Tree gave to the stags
A place of honor true.
She placed them on her own head
Their antlers branching through.
The antlers and the branches
Catch souls and spirits all,
Condensing them as raindrops
Into the Well they fall.
Thus Yggdrasil holds lofty
Four stags with branched prongs.
The reason long forgotten,
Their purpose never gone.
After all creation;
All life had been unfurled.
And Yggdrasil watched over
All things as they were made.
Ensuring laws of Physics
And Nature were obeyed.
The Mother Tree checked over
All creatures as they birthed,
Counting limbs and organs
To see that they would work.
There, amongst the monsters,
The flora and fauna wild,
She found a wailing creature,
Inconsolable child.
She looked upon the infant
And held it in her hand,
And searched out its potential
As the Norns would understand.
The child’s aura glowed
A healing verdant green,
Meant to grow in Midgard
To create as no other being.
But something there was missing,
A key, important part.
This child could do nothing
Without its missing heart.
Yggdrasil called out
To each wild and noble creature.
She sent all out to seek
The infant’s unknown feature.
Every plant and monster
And animal of the Tree
Searched through all nine worlds,
For what they could not see.
Each being came back at last
With nothing there to show.
The World Tree simply waited,
For what, she did not know.
A great quartet of stags,
With antlers branching high,
Approached the Mother Tree,
And with a bellowed cry
They begged of Her forgiveness
For failure they did find.
But Yggdrasil just smiled
And reached for their antler tines.
Caught in the bony points
Of the stags’ tangled crown
An essence never seen
Was weaving all around.
The Great Tree pulled the wisp
Out from the antlered maze
And, upon the first soul,
Did all creation gaze.
The Tree of Worlds then took it
And placed it in the child.
It filled in what was missing
And Yggdrasil then smiled.
The verdant child grew older
And passed its soul on down
To every human being,
To be our mortal crown.
The soul lets us see as gods do,
To create and live and grow,
And channel through us wisdom,
Troth, and Honor show.
The Tree gave to the stags
A place of honor true.
She placed them on her own head
Their antlers branching through.
The antlers and the branches
Catch souls and spirits all,
Condensing them as raindrops
Into the Well they fall.
Thus Yggdrasil holds lofty
Four stags with branched prongs.
The reason long forgotten,
Their purpose never gone.
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