Chains weigh me down, created in my forge,
Whence Viking ancestors’ deep battle cry?
How came I to find manhood is disgorged?
Evil sorcery leaves me high and dry.
Garden gone to weeds, Candide warned me so;
How do I battle me, how rise above?
Disjointed thoughts, in circles mind does row;
Long for strength and purpose, bask in His love.
“To everything a season,” tides rise, fall;
Verdant, choking weeds spirit disenthralls.