Odinnsong

we
the dead
are gathered to your hall

against the day
brass giants come again
to take our living kin

when we will fight and strike
and claw and call
and die again... again

will there be battlesong?
I do not know
there will be what is needful
and our will

we will be strong

until that day
we feast and fight and train
and wile the time away
in words and works and gain

in the battle's burnings and rebirths
each layer stripped
tritanium, flesh
and self
again... again

will you recall
falling rain?