How cruelly the Fates do spin their plan
upon the loom of wretched lives and great,
ensnaring both the wise and careless man
with threads that end each one at Hades' gate.
No dream or hope survives that fatal weave -
the golden shears, a-flashing, cut them all
and as the shades from former bodies leave,
the wants and wishes, into darkness, fall.
The loved ones whom, in life, get left behind
are Fated to existence full of grief
and marks man thought would stand for all of time
are in malicious jest but very brief.

And yet we strive each day our souls to sing,
forgetful of the Fates' unkindly string.

01/28/2003

Author's Note: An experiment in writing a Shakespearean-style sonnet.

Posted on 01/28/2003
Copyright © 2024 Amanda J Cobb