One spear echoes to sky of birth
One spear roots to pierce the earth
Wolf of night
Silvered helm one eyed bright
Drink of lightning consumed
This fire brings no doom
Howl of echoing strength
Wounding held at length
Feet are strong
Intent stretched long
Confidence one must walk
Silence one must talk
Rite of fire
Wolf is dire
Fire stride
Bare skin ride
A small test
Hidden from the rest
At times a mystery it can be
The most powerful secret none may see
Bare skinned dance
Wolves last chance
Eyes that blunt ones sword
Stealing ones will without a word
Two spears are the rite
True wolves howl this night
Norse shield I created several years ago.
The Sundered Oak 