Ancient Promises

So often they say:
Your manner is strange
Are you from this land?

I am from many lands
Upon Nine Worlds I stand
Here and There I stare
Thus you are forced to glare

How often they ask:
The golden hair of your head
Is it real?

It is only an illusion
Separation from delusion
The roots of Yggdrasil grow deep
Ancient promises to keep

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