Loki

Beneath the sky of shifting gray,
Where twilight dances, night meets day,
There spins a tale of guile and flame,
A trickster’s art, a whisper’s name.

Loki, born of frost and fire,
Weaver of schemes, unquenched desire,
With honeyed tongue and quickened mind,
He bends the fate of gods and time.

He walks the line ’twixt jest and spite,
A thief of truth, a shadowed light.
With silver lies and cunning art,
He sows discord in every heart.

A serpent sly, a fox’s grin,
His chaos spreads where he has been.
Yet in his tricks, a lesson lies—
To see the truth through veiled disguise.

For though his deeds may shatter peace,
And sow confusion without cease,
His clever hands reshape the way,
A spark that births another day.

Oh, Loki, wily, sharp, and sly,
A fire that flickers, never dies.
Your cunning path, both curse and boon,
A dance beneath the shifting moon.

2025 ©️