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1 SIGFRIDSSON

FOURTH CORNER-STONE GOTSALA 49 PAINT AND PHOTOGRAPHY: 1 S ALL RIGHTS: 1 S FOURTH CORNERSTONE. 978-91-984008-5-4, E-BOOK & PRINTED EDITION.


RECOVER LIFE’S HEART Guarding the hours altering; their changes: My prey. Fogcovered ― AWAKENED!, rising ― Dawning now lifts itself swiftly roused, opened in the lightsoaked halls in the forest and all night is missing ― for a moment, ― again. (Worries bite ― a burden lingers on.) Wandering up all the Path’s aged, burnt in, yearsteps, standing upon flowering field islands, leaving by my withering footprints and catching torn thoughts ― when spoken my heart clears, ― to remain. Life’s heart, our hearts; are born matured. So return, come you who listened, know the qualm cleanhearted; on hate’s and gladness terms here allowed to tenderly intertwine with the lighthearted ― maybe sorrowfilled, enlightened Sun’s routes. I am proven ― when your shivers go cold, ― if you wake up.


FINISHED WITH DEATH IN LIFE (A furtively insensible glance beneath the foliage: The dawningmist caresses the stones.) Striding hidden through (the belonging pondweed) Climbing over a rained creek (inside a soft misty rain) Reading in raindrops on rose-hip; (my property)

I am clear. Clearer than wellwaters megin I am clear on what is dead with this life.

Clear. Harder than Sorrow’s first tears Clear. Cleaner than sustenance of real gladness

Clear.


FORDABLE PLACE Blowing down powdersnow from a pine branch onto cold, light grey shadows; in the wilderness (The verge of the ground a reminder of Our gathering.) Gently gave Water and Wind Life to the cloud meanwhile snow journeyed in a concern to remain upon forest hills stones; to be glanced towards the edge (Finding Now in the stillness, in a fleeing movement: All gone and awaiting time.) Somewhat hesitant break runnels through the ice, somewhat insolent, asking: When do We reach Home? This so grievously lovable clarity’s Winterglade is surely leaving its Answers in the abstruse alike streamcaressed stones over the creeks have stayed in the frozen years

Demand our new freedom, as all other time is stricken.


REMOUNT. We know, know how a shattered thought bit us: That to life dragged will here be thrashed. (Now owning the last torn down lifeline.) Weakening down, defying that weakness is death. These are tangled years where the wishing doesn’t reach down to matter; wrecked frozen unripe buds where needs don’t manage to reach up to any will from the fallow; the growth lands, there lust rarely tricks itself grown above loathing. (In front of hurtfilled opened eyes to realities burns a cold indifference down inside; through us: Dumbness of The Worlds in all its swathing wholeness.) Viet, The New Time, taking year after year, where blow upon blow sets the boundaries of the helpless and harshly hits any survival with swath after swath (This world where thinking has stayed in death and the rotten parts of wholeness are to be cured; leaving a new unity worthy of our lives.) Righting here this world’s flat and foul opinions. Life, awaken to be sharply lived with the Rights teach that all rot inside came from outer affront and finding no value in murdered sufficiency Shaping Midgard’s holds and leaving all emptiness.


SUNBRANCHES Firmly risted in hidden recess until Ragnarok. Fetching yet another unlovable stretch to love: Branches in wait here, all too dead calm before, as foretold is; We can gather to the mould as love’s owned and dying breed: Caught, while sea mist rises inside the birchleafrains The leaves down in the slush dampen hard steps. The lacking; root to crown, severely drains this world. But, wilted flowers recall that they won against darkness! WE ARE HERE! CAN NOT LOVE OR BE LOVED ENOUGH! Welcome, to our rich camp’s unity there Sun will hand us his friendliest reverence from forestkissed skies freed from uncertainty inside of dusk and dawn, dear Light of excellence! VALUABLE LIFE FINDS THE HIGHEST FUTURE, SO HASTEN ― STRENGTHEN NEW DAYS ON THE PATH! RIGHTS TO CLARITY ARE THE WORLDS’ SOLVED ANSWER: THE GODS WILL REMAIN!


WHERE THE DEW NEVER DRIES It was in a time before silence was altered ― just as daybreak came walking across the region while cloudshadows swept onwards ― observing. And the world set ― in Dumbness; uncountable scars where excessive junk searched of ways to be charming… (Myself? Wandered free there the dew never dries and all of Life’s paths showed forward to Odin.) We vaguely remembered safety and honestly owned excess, real life in beauteous honour ― a longing home to Asgard; to grow well rooted value only Goodness could bid Us. (Obeying my steps. Leaving the bare ground opened traces in time before the first snow will return as a threat.) Skillfully, surely all too well, Truth answers: “Tear down any seeming solace ― it is venality: Death. We have foes to correct; to pay our plight, in our sight, for naught stand more fairer grown than killed lies in life.” Let shatter the nightmare-years. Give Truth to hate and cure. BE HONOURED! MIGHT AND GLADNESS! SET YOUR LIFE’S ROOT!


A CONFIRMED FATE Raising up a monument over an exception in excess and far above, one who refused to own wrongs, but was robbed for far more Well, it is clear that Man harbours here; there Worlds see: “Am after repute active in other places and that is surely more than a clue hereabout… The years took me too early inside of current futures therein true visions lived when near was; but never really was lived.” We agree upon refusing the revolting parts of the whole, so doomed are to us the unwanted: All those coerced roads. TRACK DOWN THAT THE NIGHTSIDE NOW BELONGS TO OUR DEFENCE AND OPEN EYES ARE REWARDED WITH GOOD AND TRUTH. TAKE THAT IN! STRAIGHTEN TWISTED THOUGHTS IN THOSE WEARING BLINKERS WITH HATE! CRUSH THE LAST CONFIDENCE IN THE TREACHEROUS! FIND HERE THE ANSWER! … IN LIGHT! Settling my death with my foes death. … IN DARKNESS! Becoming an avoiding ghost. … IN LIFE! I am pleased and drunk with victory.


EYE-MEETING (FOR A FRIEND.) “But say, wouldn’t you let dumbness amuse, be fooled to lack responsibility for yourself and be struck dead for the rest of your life like others? Like a normal funny farm being.” Seating myself sternly down and answering: Find here your hardest eye-meeting. Misled, into qualm and anguish thrown, stuffed yourself thrall-bound with all that is indigestible. Do you know that every dumb thing gets your applause, but scum’s trash is all that scum will beget in return? Searching inside after something called nothing to express? Wrapping thoughtlessness around deranged and led opinions? Foolishly smiling indulgently when impropriety and foulness appear? Your turbid thoughts now cling after some doubt in a strained smile fooled away from sanity, so consider that weak-hearted is wrong and filth always did harden your ugliness. You have already enough to suffer from; that thoughts are counted as your deeds’ freedom and that need would strengthen or break down, but it will become an insight of an inner unchanged. Our foes construct barriers against the Life we do own, setting in and leading your undignified wrong choices, wrapping steadfast rotten meek in your “free will’s causes”, twisting wishful thinking and gnawing down all will and lust, axing onward your “self-deception” at our lives expenses there “open-minded” will quickest possible be very shallow when “acceptance” means to be carved with the defects of others. It is certain that your inner and outer blemishes are laid brickwork. Cry my tears for a while, but now carefully note that you are the cause.


TIME’S BLOOD SETTING CLEANSED STEPS WITH THE IRON. BINDING THE CIRCLE ON SUN’S MIDDLE. FASTENING MIDGARD’S FOUR DIRECTIONS.

A STORM NOW TEARS THROUGH THE NINE WORLDS.

TIME’S STEPS: YGGDRASIL IS OUR TRUTH. TIME’S BLOOD: LAW, RIGHT AND VICTORY.

HONOUR IS ALL THE MEAT OF WISDOM. THE GROUND IS OATHBOUND FOR ODIN’S WORLDS. ASGARD’S CHOSEN IS LIFE’S CHOSEN.


FORCED WILL CHOSEN Acknowledging my honour and sweetest high-lineage, I stop smoothing over my well-deserved nuisance: Scoffing at the revolting; useless to this world, remaining in solved questions and hardened riddles. Agreeing with truisms and people’s will, when that fully and gratuitously has been attended. Stabbing dead meaningless opinions! Axing down bumptious pretences! Leaving sense against wicked deeds! Gather thoughtful goods: Know that Truth, Honour and the Rights of Might, don’t serve our foes as weaponry as all here now is owned by Viet. Reasons for an honourable Life is Life’s claim: Remember that rich owns the Light: Caring for Life’s Goodness; path to insight and dearest life value. Truth is our sufficient property.


ON TIME’S ONLY WAY (Sun threw away the mist ― strengthened Clarity.) The years’ thoughts returned like trees that lay to wither, long rummaging inside already bloomed and set for Winter to out of the soil’s wisdom ― from The Worlds’ demands ― be returned. Rooted. A trunk has always fair wind and head wind. Holding firm. Taking up more value.

Time’s only way is The Path where steps taken accept their liability aside the risen earthwork brimful with Leaves, Water and Wind, and not very sparse is between getting coaxed by The Gods’ Answer. I am close now.

Sending down, prematurely, Your curing love-work so as, according to Nature, to reform our assets:

Still owning the heart that refused Life being a patchwork; and getting to hear that Will was seated up in the treetops so toilsome to reach ― step over ― become to my life’s work. Want finally with blood hew forth Holy Knowledge’s Bridge, finding the worthy Viet being gathered in our world there we restless can be collected home in Asgard; true peace and rest.


A LEAF’S JOURNEY Stumbling forward, shoved toward the woods waving tree-branches while the thunder searches over the area with its clarity strong for the leaves already adherent the striking rains on battled places where time skillfully gift each cause with its reasons: Gaining to continue being far-seeing. (Trapped ill-beaten. Deciphered are the eyes’ journeys.)

I am an aged flake of a leaf’s whirling calamity that has collected these manifold remains in this torn down guise; a frostbitten learned, travelling along with the waterfalls stepping, following down, around the old winding river; always the ground and skies engaging.

Fetching more wanted aesthetics and well-found sorrow-criticism out of windcaressed nightsnow, beautifully rested, to be lived: Worn down paths glisten in a tiresome thaw-weather for a ready-grieved root ― smiling slowly ― taking down sorrows’ driving forces, restoring the tree trunk to the ground to end its darkness and this world has not any might over my dying life.


IN THE WORLDS CRACKS WRITTEN AND UNWRITTEN ARE FORETOLD, LONG US TWISTED WHERE THE DEFECT JUNK-CULTURE IS THE SAD NEGATION TO STOLEN FROM ME ALWAYS AFFECT UPON THE ILLUSION. KNOW, SO YOU GET LEARNED: GRIEVE, SO YOU GET INSIGHT INTO THE WAR’S FORCES. NEVER SELL YOURSELF. NOT EVEN FOR THE UNIVERSE AS PAYMENT. KNOW, SO YOU CAN LIVE. AWAKE, SO YOU BECOME VALID, TO LAWFUL LIVES. FORM YOUR LIFE FULL OF WORTH, WELL-DESERVING AND LIVING. KNOW, SO WE WILL BE VICTORIOUS. KNOW, SO WE REACH TO BECOME THE SOLE MIGHT. TRUTH IS RIGHTED WISDOM TO OWN AND LIVE. CHOSEN TO VALHALLA ARE WE THE HIGHEST WORTHY LIFE; DEFENDING GODFATHER ODIN’S PROPERTY FROM THE FOES WE FIGHT TOGETHER WITH THE GODS FOR THE WORLDS.

SURVEY THE EFFECT IN THE COMING TIMES: UNIVERSALLY LOVED AND ALL TOO LOVED WILL VIET REMAIN WHERE RIGHT AND HONOUR IS LAW.


TO HARDEN Weakened. Strengthened.

Weakened. Strengthened.

Escaped much… Only to the uselessness to thereby be lead to more unforgettable bittering when my love was given away in order to feel; well knowing that sorrows lead forth to suffering. Forced to misbecome life greyish and leaky; set is that the memories mostly became hard heart-screams from torn peeled recollections where the inherited times change of wind continually quelled me. Weaken. Strengthen. Weaken. Strengthen.

(As of yet…)

* Taking here the sorrow-free, the viable, as resolved: I am strengthened to capture my minds consciousness, from inside ― with a dear thought-clarity ― visibly relieved have the new mind undefiled been opened. (Calm, Will, returns ― resetting gladness source in place.) Refusing now to fortify first as the thaw refuses to break; whenever a cold heart-sigh become a settled down friend.

To harden is to defend what is real in Life.


WITH CLEAR VIEW Am a resting windfall the storm rifted and hid next to clean ― opening ― flowing cold wells. Remain being sought after and true ― All that you have dreamt of. Still aiming after the lingering clouds’ steps, after the tentative winter sun over the spruce stripe in glances fleeing away from this place underneath... (Laying thoughtful seated in the ascent, alone reluctantly agreed to leave my tracks here.) No more faking being content, poking around in Life’s shrubs, saying gently that the hard to interpret is your ignorance; that the core was carved hard in my last death year. A small misty look-in from the passed peaks: (The hardest growth rings, rarely richly useful, when only and always; Truth as the answer remains.) In its dream state stuck the frost onto the dusted grey spillage from the branches power ― wandered to The Gods’ might ― entering over the grounds threshold: The skies recess.

Cultivated to be a Knowledgeable: An ennobled wild.


AS A FROST MOTH IN NOON-DAY THAW Winter-shrouded wooded ground ― bitterly cold ― plodding snowed over paths.

Whirling snow kisses. Helping me live.

Cutting in ― setting traces in time ― hearing a frozen to death stone rapture.

Sensing emotions colden.

Future now stands here in the trace-meeting ― knowing the inner in your voice ― in our two parts: Let me become the most beautiful spring-freed leaf you’ve seen.


A CULTURED STONE’S THROW When memories nourish life, enforcing the unexplained to be obvious. And what will befit our value will Will follow.

So little it takes to give life. * But when memories cut badly: Searched for compassion; got cold, ignorant words to an emptied shell where an unaltered enlightened should live.

So little it takes to give death. * You, Existence; memory’s collected results from lived moments, listen: Our lives are about deserving our identity. Extract your presence with our left existence, around here allow the insights’ sweetness be an antidote. Here. We can cleanse the wrongs and turn the world right for us. Never pull back! Do not blame any irresolute chains! But, find our repulsion against ideals without the normal insight: Inside the other Worlds are shown all of our differences clarified.


A STATUTORY CLEANSING OF TASTE You, with rotten hearts… thrown away from Life’s dignified to get to become cultivated, want to resemble protection for our threatened lives to be hatred… You are the feeble-minded that have the life-giving sense rejected as a deadly danger… You can stop pretending being able to love; Hated scared away from clean love and Reality, fastened around objections without being able to think; herded around cursory and worthless experiences… The foes carry on their racial wars with the fake “religions’” twisted lies, with their repulsive ideologies and murdering “multi-culture”, with the brainwashing threats, inciting, terror, outrage, plunder, violating and drugs; these unclean “humans” cannot even be measured against the lowest animal. Sentenced to non-life, where the existence puny and grey is spent on unwished junk in the meaningless opinions steered according to the fleeting emotions so overfilled with petty nonsense; all dumb, shortsighted and unsweetened wrong. The deformed, manufactured beings with ignorant thoughtlessness, completely lacking might, stricken down existences fooled from all high, all the while gladness where The Path to Life: Truth and Honour, frighten… And fuel to the escape from reality is claimed to be conflicting ideas no one sane, or even half demented, should be ready to touch without blushing. Completely true is that the scum crawl around where nothing can be called right.

We let the foes’ tears repulse us; all the while they want to sell in yet more false comfort with stolen words. Doomed to death is the foes’ revolt.


Now will Viet take over: Cancel the waiting for The New Time and give what Reality demand in Life: Junk-culture’s wrong tracks will be exterminated in our world.

We have the sole right to be at attack and self-defence; to grant fairest death-blow for counter-blow.

Deny the hopeless! Be immeasurably wise in all high and true. Become sufficiently intelligent and well-meaning.

In The Gods’ game the played cards always lay shown: It accrues to us enlightened to save and build up the habitat for all that deserve existence in the Worlds. These considerations are not sent here for free, The Gods real Folk have their choice in Life:

WE REALIZE THAT IMPRUDENCE IS DEADLY DUMBNESS! WE TANGLE AVERSION AND LIVE WITH THE WILL FOR VICTORY’S FREEDOM! WE EXECUTE THAT SELECTION IN OUR WORLD EXTENT TO THE GREAT MAJORITY!


Recognizing how Wind takes hold of the seas’ waves, watchfully ― patient but, restlessly ― restfully, and just like that continually harms the fragile shimmer from inside the forests set in my gaze again finding all ways back and the adversities in corners; up over Life’s muddled water’s edge.

Always wanted to be an untouched well; One lit with what Time has sent here.

Gathering hardened lust for life. The War still remains.


FOURTH CORNER-STONE  

Poetry

FOURTH CORNER-STONE  

Poetry

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