Dreams of Valhalla

by Sietze Bosman

What feverish dreams do pulse at night  
and so snatch a man’s fancies in the dark?  
What tugs at his soul with all its might?  
On what quest commands him to embark?  

The chime of iron and the smell of earth  
The promise of blood and victory calls  
Lures men away from home and hearth  
to join our forebears in their glorious halls  

What vision haunts a mediocre man  
during the restless nights of his dreary life?  
Where is his king to whom he can  
gladly give in service his sword and life?  

Modernity trapped him in dreadful ways  
where success is measured in targets met  
No struggle in his bland and equal days  
and life’s only burden is financial debt  

And so he conjures up long lucid dreams  
from the depths of his heroic being  
in which enemies he fells, reams and reams  
and sends them pusillanimously fleeing  

So desperately does he want to smash  
his ikea seats and his ikea chair  
He wants to rage and turn to trash  
this hellish prison of rote despair  

For never does it provide  
any venue for escape  
To mount a horse and ride  
unbound by red tape.  

No, decency and good standing  
dictate he acts as the slave he is  
Mutely accept his chains and branding  
and listen to his masters’ hiss  

He dreams of a glorious endeavor  
when he gets to fight for flag and king  
because his safe lacklustre life can never   
offer him the same heroic thing  

A life that all the gold cannot buy  
A cause and duty draped with high ideals  
To fight and perchance be graced to die  
on the heroic path that Sol reveals  

Life is a sacred gift is often said  
as men soullessly cling to their dreary ways  
With unknown name, what life is to be had?  
But blessed is he who dies in a fiery blaze  

Such a death is not a waste  
for it grants fallen heroes the key  
to the place where they shall taste  
honor and grace for all eternity