What is left when a man’s soul is fled?
Hi body burned,
cold ashes on damp ground.
The memory remains.
His arms and shield will hang in the hall.
Till none can recall
the sign or sigil.
Still, his memory remains.
The legacy of the man he was is alive in those he touched.
Let a man live in such a way,
that his legacy grows day by day.
To go to Valhalla where the victorious dead feast
would be joy to fill the soul,
but it is no comfort to those left here below.
Let a man leave a part of himself
with those who knew him best.
For it is not axe, sword, or shield that bring warmth in the Long Night,
but memory forged while the sun still stood high.
Let his labors be remembered.
Each word and deed inscribed on hearts forever.
For the dead have not truly flown
until their memory is left al alone,
when the world is nothing but bone.