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Forevermore
Runes decorate the cold and humble surface of stone once more,
for words are needed in memorium of the fallen.
A silent, literary ode to a passed on brother.
Henceforth shall it be known that his spirit,
no longer dwelling here in our realm,
has passed into the hands of the gods.
On earth, in the Physical-World,
his pyre is burned,
while above, his spirit moves forth and advances through the Golden Halls.
Alongside our protectors and guardians,
our warriors, Berserks and chieftains,
he will feast.
A banquet too kingly for any human,
yet fitting for those of god-like natures.
He shall feast in paradise and train in hell.
For the end is coming; the sounding of the horn is not far off now.
It is destiny for him to fight for us,
for our realm, our gods, our existence;
forevermore shall he live in Valhalla,
and bring forth death amidst Surtur's Fire.
