My ancestors hailed from harshness and sought new lands far and wide
with their wooden ships in which to spread their seed, for farms and for genetics.
The land I long for is that of my origins,
known only by legend.
In that place, whales spout in ice choked bays and fjords,
ice achieves a depth whose inner color rivals that of the piercing blue sky,
northern lights dance an impossible dream of pulsing colors
within a perpetual twilight,
hot springs of mineral laden water bathe bodies that ache with cold,
and a fire blazes within a great timbered lodge whose walls resound
with the fire songs, the sea songs of old.
I will see this place when my days have played themselves out to their end,
a valiant life the earned passage to my seat among ancestral Norse ranks.