The one
As chaos
And egg

I wot that I hung
On the wind-tossed tree
All of nights nine
Wounded by the spear

Bespoken myself to myself
Upon that tree
Of which none telleth
From what roots it doth rise

Neither horn they upheld
Nor handed me bread
I looked below me
Aloud I cried

Healing
Wailing
Transforming
Devouring

Sacrifice
Transcending
Dreaming itself
And all

The one
As chaos
And egg...

(Partly adapted from the Poetic Edda)

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