My poem post for September is a meditation on the mystique of legendary Hyperborea. It comes from a similar sort of impulse as seen in my poem Et in Arcadia Ego, which I released on this blog a number of years ago. It could be described as a sort of Esoteric Traditionalism, and both poems are part of my branching out beyond Norse Mythology. Enjoy!

Hyperborea: The Polar Seat

Hail Polyhymnia! Of Hyperborea,
that celestial land that was lost ‘ere time,
inspire me to speak with spirited verse.
Beyond the North Wind is this noble land,
a holy realm that was hiding away
in the terra incognitae of times long gone,
but no such land is now remaining.
What might have been the main of its being
in the Golden Age when gods still ruled?
In that archipelago, an island realm,
the cold came not, and ‘twas calm and sunny.
At this polar seat, Apollo is highest,
with a sacred precinct and a solar temple.
The people esteem the practice of arts
for powerful prophecy, poetry, and music;
always the Muses are all around.
They live very far from labor and battle,
their sacred lives unsullied by disease,
bitter old age, or baseless fears.
In the Central City, it is sacred to live.
The sun circles ‘round at summer’s height
in an endless day that’s all of six months.
At the depth of winter, in the dreamy night,
the wondrous stars are wheeling about
with the gods’ green lights in a glorious dance.
Yet even in darkness, it is always warm.
The Central Tower sits on the axis,
an ever-reminder of the awesome duty
of ruling right where the world spins around.
In that realm ere time, the rest of the globe
was stark and strange. Stifling heat
was south of that seat in searing deserts
and sweltering jungles, while seas were rough;
for most of humanity, ‘twas a mean existence.
Yet allegiance they had to an uplifting mission,
so ere their occultation, they were out in the world;
their light and legends they allowed to be known.
At Delos and Delphi, they ordained great shrines.
And that Hyperborean, the healer Abaris,
traveled the world, trained in medicine
for both soul and body. We’ve a serious need
for his healing today—our hapless souls
are sick of modernity and seek for a cure.
The lights of Tradition yet linger on,
signs for the seekers that the ascended ones left.
So look to Polaris, the luminous aurora,
and the Noble North for the needful tokens
and holy boons that the Hyperboreans
have left to guide the long ages
of the world’s existence till their wondrous return.

Copyright © 2023 Eirik Westcoat