Flashes of light arrive
through the mist of ages.
Slightly colored by interference,
an eerie volumetric haze.

Events, occurring in the distant past.
Declaration of laws, allocation of land,
punishment of crimes, vows of allegiance.

Looking over Þingvellir towards the reddened sun
– that strange nordic semi-permanent late afternoon,
crimson reflections on the lake, distant plumes of steaming vents –
is looking back in time, where history unfolds,
between our eyes and the horizon.

Þingvellir, Iceland
Image via Wikipedia

One thought on “Þingvellir

  1. dear eelco,

    your poem is enigmatic as if it has been taken from some Nordic mythology. there is a rich compilation of images here that evokes mysterious history of the place. you have transported me to a place and time so unique and different. what a fine poem, i would want to read it over and over again. thanks.

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