Takk Fyrir. For Ingolfsson. On looking at the words that he wrote for himself. On looking at the words that he told me. I am…he is…who am I? Who am I to hear such words speaking when his life goes creeping…among that wayward shore. Who am I to wonder…if this ‘Ice Man’ should be humble. To sing to me his life’s long score Should his loneness be punctuated by siren call incorporated? –into of emotional goals shroud the twin tottering towers that guard his valley floor? Beauty! Yes High Beauty Devine. Ensuing his Lifes Glory Devine. Because of what is hidden must be made known. Though rock and ice…water, fire and stone made known. Grinding, molding and groaning. Iron strikes iron hot. Love strikes the world cold. ‘ You shall not go alone to your own bones’ Your bones they be white and hard—buried beneath flesh and lard. Strike not this “Ice Man” on that long shore today. ‘Let me be with him!’ Lord I pray. Two and three willingly be one. I pray that you stay along your Path il lumated by the sun . If our path that’s quixotically twain’d allotted time runs its course. Let me say to the fathomless world… Let me say to Love unfulfilled… Let me say to Life unlived… Let me say to those eyes—full of youth and wisdom. “Hear this ‘ Ice Man’ whose shorn by his own will from north lands ancient. To wonder fruitful and peacefully to lands hither and yon. Bendiction. May Grace and Beauty clothe your skin! May they reveal the glory that you have within! You ‘Ice Man’ of whom wisdom will shine. Whose feet is put on a path that’s inspired Devine!