Paces, routes, Fates

[In lieu of some more prosaic thoughts on the turn of the year, I offer this poem]

Take in the breath of life around you

Feel the joy and challenge and sadness

Is it cold and crisp or hot and wet?

Hammer or feather, what is your choice?

Or do we have a choice to make?

The Fates lay claim to that right

To measure the paces and map the routes

Each day, each minute turns a new page.

A deep pit where gleaming towers once stood

Say otherwise as the children and widows cry

To Hell with the Fates and their plans made real

Away with the heart, dig deep with knives.

Other folk stand up, ready to be counted

Ready to make some difference if they can

Barriers to the goal must be swept away

If these burning hearts can be made true

Fates take a seat, listen to the cries of Men

Watch for the blooming flowers in the crisp Winter

Feel the trees sway in the heat of Summer

Waiting to feel again the winged energy of delight.

Inspired by rainer marie rilke’s as once the winged energy of delight [via dangerousmeta]