Shadows, Gods and Dreams.

But stories were told of him - yes?

And did they make people laugh?

Did they make them squirm?

But a hearth stone was carved of him, yes?

Someone's love and time emptied into little mouth stitches and a curly mustache

They imagined him, right?

And someone looked at the sky

Saw Thiazi's eyes

And the old dwarf's toe

And saw the red one, burning bright

And named it Loki -

Right?

Does a lack of worship mean

A lack of love?

What about a million scintillating threads tying the web of stories, great and small?

What about kindling the imagination

Like wildfire

Like dandelion seeds

Blowing across a northern sky

Why does worship not mean

Deeply Beloved?

I am with Them - They are with me

Everyone who once heard a story who heard a story of a god called Loki

And told it to someone who told it someone

You can’t wake up, this is not a dream, You’re part of a machine, you are not a human being, With your face all made up, living on a screen, Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline.