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per amica silentia lunae

or, across the ferny brae with the evil voodoo celt

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A metaphor...


Will and fate are forces entwined,
And lay a binding on our lives.
Call one destiny, or the weight
Of history, what you will, it
Seems a whelming, greater power,
And we helpless before the flood.
But sailors ken the secrets of such
Implacable foes, of wind and tide-
Know when to run before the blow,
Or close-haul and tack, near to the
Power that would drive them elsewhere.
Though we may reef sails and fly
Before the Norns' stormy breath at times,
We can also carve our lives' courses
At bold tangent to it, even set
Our sights on the eye of the wind
That blows from the Moirae's quarter,
If we are willing to take the longer,
Wearier path. We do not always command,
But we are not always commanded.
In the tension and the yielding, from sail
To line to hull to hand on the wheel,
And the knowledge and the choice we have,
Lies the lift and the life, lies the Tao.


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This is my new favorite poem, because my name is in it. :o)

(yeah, yeah, I know you meant Fates. I do really like this though)

It's all about you, darlin'... ;-)

Glad you liked it!

Great imagery. Thank you.

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