Ye Fate that scours within the silence proud,
Far fetched from mine but grasped along fare,
Give reprieve for all words ere spoken what lack;
Shuns Reason and adjourns Liberty for Justice mere,
Cast away both light and darkness for neither stood,
In the midst of all that calls my name hither sound,
Alack, grieves me not for her approach in finest hour
Made the blood of mine soak and what flesh mine scour,
Far fetched to have abandoned all ephemeral hope procured,
Pricked mine eyes and upon her poison ye call Fate pronounced
The ways wherewith She whereupon the ties ye once bond
Fettered and tethered there towards the open mound blight;
Events of mine not for mine but for thine made ye Fate,
Gestured and moved the elements in our Universe once we thought;
To have sat down is for ye to stand; for ye to stand is for us to fall,
And grief is He who punishes Fate; alas for mine stoic all else,
Delivers a lasting sigh for what could have been, alas for not;
In the open road once found, the stones cleared were never parted.

Category:
Mysterious, Nature, Poetry, Works
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