Strung Along

one thread
strains to be cut. 
or tied
strongly…
happily seeking no other knot.
the tangles have been no loops,
the curlicues have built tight mazes,
yet something still pulls it towards the stitch.
Who has landed it a line among
all the others wound upon paths,
intertwined and round?
After all, do they not all await
to enter the eye of light?
Becoming binded,
upon another worn destiny.

beguilingly bought

without being told
there awaits
a curiosity
sought
and often
beguilingly bought
in the very
palm of your
hand
held tremblingly
of bridges and roads
and paths engraved
of grooved hills and narrowly lined valleys
of promises and preening predictions
and lengths that improve longevity
but what use of this fortune without the digits
to grasp it?

unknown

there is a yearnful parting
that never came to be

we search for it without notice
whether or not an illusion

never knowing if each met
will ever be the ONE

as understudys eager to be betrayed as us.

two strangers never encountered
convinced they will know:
innately, irrevocably

and as they contemplate thus
seemingly guaranteed in deed

each pass the other
remaining one less unknown.

ender

an ender should not dread the end

reaper of all, you sowed once too

a guide for the died

what fear is there

for the destined real?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

you will be summoned

you will appear

be drawn to my wavering soul

suspended above my shallow shell

and dear death

once ago

and once again

 become

enfleshed

Dear Destiny,

Dear Destiny,

thou art but a mistress,
mover of a mere mortal will,
that yet shapes all that you usurp.

let it be..
it is not fate.
i find it not in the stars.
it is only
your reason that
rules over a life.

it struggles still..
towards the Light…
that does not exist.