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Rated: E · Poetry · Mythology · #1872945
An appeal to the winds of fate.
O fortune!
Thy hand beckons our earthly lot
as fate takes hold of crashing winds –

Let us not seek
thy narrow definition,
for fortune comes to us
in varied forms and functions.

Let us revel
in thy varied gifts,
and not forget the hands that
build us up upon our journey
thrusting onward to our destination!

May we seek
to live in gracious gratitude,
for it is in your hands that
Wyrd gives over, that we may
choose the path of uncommon riches
and alternative wealth.

The answers come,
but not on paths, or in the forms
we expect them to present themselves.

May we not
overlook thy gifts for what they are,
or scoff at that we did not ask for,
for in the end we shall be beholden
to thy generosity and provenance.

Lead us not
to roll the rock of Sisyphus,
in our quest to find meaning
for that we are not ready to understand.

Grant us peace,
as we wander in the darkness
of our minds, not out of ignorance,
but due to our unpreparedness
to face the crashing of the dawn.

And in the end,
May we one day find the peace
to live within the coming of the light.


In Greek mythology Sisyphus was a king punished by being compelled to roll an immense boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down, and to repeat this action forever

Wyrd is Anglo-Saxon for fate. It is also the name of the Anglo-Saxon deity that was seen as the guardian of fate.

© Copyright 2012 Turtle ~ KanyáthƐko:wa:h (marnts at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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