Destiny Swims

Ahh, but the dice cannot read their own spots.

Bijaz the Dwarf {Frank Herbert}

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What ligatures of destiny,

And tendons of fate

Pull me yet, this day?

 

What autobahns of future,

And roads so present

Lead direct, into nowhere?

 

Which vast oceans of time,

And foreign seas of seconds

Still tumble sandy down?

 

Where do cosmic spaces

And claustrophobic cupboards

Meet at the crossroads?

 

Which rennet remnants

And milky memories

Make mouse-hole cheeses?

 

What deaf blind days

And myopic Mondays

Make weak the weeks ahead?

 

Which magnum chilled on ice

And bucketed at table

Will uncork a purpose?

 

Will the spiral dog teeth

And tousled fly swats

Ever end this cycle tale?

 

Which shepherd warning sun

And blood red dawn

Will open portal wide?

 

What rabbit-run cave of fern

And delicate deer path

Click the shutter up?

 

Which limpid forest pool,

And sublime mirror calm

Suck me, vortex in?

 

What saucy void of starts

And magnetic mass

Draw me salmon home?

 

Which dulcet voice demanding

And whispering my ear

Will conch call me on?

 

What un-inked fanfares

And clefts of Soul

Will treble again my strokes?

 

 

What ligatures of destiny,

And tendons of fate

Pull me yet, this day?