Fate goes ever as she shall
dragging muddied feet through the hall of my Heart
clogging the carpets with filth
leaving clotted promises
of life tracked in dirt
How dare she?
A dream made manifest
Here, this home of the heart
A dream of a better way
A dream of a future forged in the fires of the Ideal
An ideal found through daring to imagine
a better way
a true self
born of desire
A home of the heart and the self
How dare she challenge this dream
When all dreams strive to live
When all homes born of the dream
Seek to serve
As shelter
And monument
How dare she
After all this
How dare she
How dare she
Fate goes ever as she shall
throwing open the windows of my Heart-Home
drenching the drapes in rain
filling the rooms
with the storm promise
What use this?
What use to build and to shape
To heft stone upon stone
Only to see
All turn to ruin
What is this desire
This animal urge to be seen
To leave something of this self
To measure the ineffable
What use when all we are can so lightly be cast aside
When the storm promises obliteration
What use the staggering shanty that protects
That preserves
That reminds
What use this
When all is dross
What use this
What use this
Fate goes ever as she shall
tearing at the bedding of my Heart sanctuary
burning and rending
leaving cold ashes
on my pallet of dreams
What choice I?
To rail at the never faltering winds
To rage at inequity and vagary
To wail into the darkness
To live victimized in my Heart-home
Betraying the dream
What choice when no door
No window
No wall or shelter can stand
What choice to live in fear
My home is a place without locks
I would live free
My heart-home unbarred and open
Fearing nothing
Welcoming all
What choice this
If I would love
What choice this
What choice this
Fate goes ever as she shall
and I shall not stand against her as she moves
from room to room
free and unfettered
inexorable as the dawn
And she moves
Yes she moves
And moves
Moves through me
Away from me and
Towards me
With and without me
And I stand
Unchanged
Unmoved
Unchanged by all this
Author notes
Sometimes we need a reminder of why we do it
Comments
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medicine for the tired footed one that is I
kick butt.
the poem really built for me
and then the crash ending of all endings.
a large pulsing poem


