<html> <head> <title>Perthro</title> <link href="./style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" title="main" media="all"> </head> <body> <p class="center"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Runic_letter_pertho.svg"><img src="../img/runes/perthro.svg" alt="Perthro rune" title="Perthro rune"></a></p> <h1>Perthro</h1> <p>Traditional meaning: divination tool</p> <p>Meanings when upright:</p> <ul> <li>totality of Yewiffe</li> <li>primal womb from which all ideas flow</li> <li>passageway between states of being</li> <li>the future inquired about is unknown</li> <li>a musician or entertainer</li> </ul> <p>Meanings when inverted:</p> <ul> <li>this will certainly come to pass</li> <li>you need to know</li> <li>chaos/confusion</li> <li>stagnation/anhedonia</li> </ul> <p>Perthro can be useful for:</p> <ul> <li>evocation of prophetic dreams</li> <li>holding repressed memories</li> </ul> <hr> <p>Anglo-Saxon rune poem:</p> <blockquote>Peorð byþ symble plega and hlehter<br>wlancum [on middum], ðar wigan sittaþ<br>on beorsele bliþe ætsomne.</blockquote> <blockquote>Peorth is a source of recreation and amusement to the great,<br>where warriors sit blithely together in the banqueting-hall.</blockquote> <p>There is not a Norwegian rune poem for Perthro.</p> <p>A modern poem:</p> <blockquote> <p>All that you've done so far has led me to believe<br/> that every winter of our passing will be followed by a spring.<br/> That, no matter how dark and cold between you and I it gets,<br/> the clouds will eventually break and the sun will shine again.</p> <p><strong>But still I have no clue what the fates will us bestow</strong><br/> when it gets longer between our touch and what words pass are cold<br/> with disappointment, misunderstandings, or simply had a bad day<br/> and, although still loving, cannot any measure of warmth feign.</p> <p>Deep purple dice cup with thick frosting of dust<br/> as though this were a bakery and Time held a brush<br/> to sugar everything, last breath of a world that for me did not wait,<br/> beckoning me to twist the lid and allow myself to play.</p> <p><strong>"No people are more addicted to divination by omens and lots."</strong><br/> My genes mark me no different. But the only words I ever sought<br/> were from you, my lilac spring, and even then mostly<br/> I just wanted to know if you still loved me.</p> <p>My head in your lap as you lean against<br/> a tree trunk, not Yewiffe but still offering rest.<br/> Arboreal claws we lie intimate between,<br/> scales ruffling above in the gentle breeze.</p> <p>"I don't live in Wyrd, Lethe; I'm far from a Norn.<br/> I can't see to which fate this world has you sworn.<br/> But this, I feel, I insist you need to know:<br/> my love for you will always burn no matter how buried by snow."</p> </blockquote> </body> </html>