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~Fate~
May 11, 2010
The shadows of the futures hold,
The leaking sieves of time,
Where every minute, as unfolds,
Predicts this destiny of mine,
And as the shadows longer grow,
And the noon bell tolls on,
Like the mournful cattle low,
Death approaches our moanings fond,
Of his guidance to the brightness,
For although dark, so dark the night,
The pale moon shines his ghoulish glow,
Upon the grave heads set below,
Our doorway to eternity,
Carved by the actions of the free.
© Molly L., Bethesda, MD
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