Work Text:
call it what
you will – fate,
destiny… (a horse)
no, this is
not just a
reference to tangled,
but a poem
of the Fates
who are they?
you ask. why,
mere mortal, do
you not know?
they control us
all. no, no,
not like that,
they see our
past, our present,
our future. they
control when we
die, our tomorrows,
they shape our
lives, day by
day. constantly working.
they sit together,
Clothos,
Lachesis,
Atropos
in cotton dresses
their silver hair
held back by
white bandanas. in
their wrinkly hands
a large ball
of electric blue
yarn, a pair
of knitting needles
and a pair
of large, gold
and silver scissors
sharp like shears
glinting in the
sunlight, forbidden treasure
taunting us, knowing when
we are to
leave this world
behind. (yes, that
line is cliché,
but bear with
me), simply just
specks in a
vast universe, our
existence a dot,
a simple sock
or hat, knitted
with the dreaded
yarn of fate.
daughters of night
and darkness, nyx,
erebus, primordial gods,
hidden in the
depths of tartarus.
no one tampers
with fate, not
even the gods
themselves. once they
deem your life
has made the
impact it was
placed in the
world to do
snip
just like that.
gone. cut, severed,
sliced, separated, split.
the sound so loud
yet silent, deadly
fate of birth
fate of life
fate of death
together they choose
and change, they
decide the world
of your tomorrow.