Geardagum

All that is past

All that's been said

Is deeper and richer

Than current events.

My childhood,

What I did ten years gone,

Is more vibrant and real

Than today's matters.

My Father's childhood

More real than my own.

The deeds of the dead

Long mouldering in their graves

Are by far more tangible

Than broadcasted news.

A classmate despises me,

I hardly notice.

But I feel every one

Of Eric the Red's passions.

My forefathers, the Vikings

Are more solid, more fascinating

Than World War II

Or my Grandfather's life.

The mead that they drank

The meat that they ate

I can taste more vividly

Than my coffee and twinkies.

The guttural syllables

Of long-dead languages;

Old Norse and Anglo-Saxon

Celtic and Gaelic;

Seem better for tales

Than my own Modern English

Made pretty with French.

Beowulf the Geat

Hero of Legend

Is more alive to me

Than any living celebrity.

The face of the king

Laid to rest in his ship

Under the mound

At Sutton Hoo,

Though long since buried

And reduced to less than dust

Is a living face more real

Than that of the man I pass of the street.

I sit with my books

My Mythologies and Histories

My Poetry and Epics.

The fact and fancy

Of geardagum

Breathe warmer breath

Than my own lungs.