You may lead
your winning pony
straight to water..
but compel her will
to quench
her mighty thirst
upon it..
you may not.

To stake one’s fortune
desperately
on the whim of others..
once used to be,
but now no longer is
my humble lot.

For, I have learned
that I alone
may ever be entrusted
with the thread
of my own narrative..
Nobody else
may ever be responsible
to weave for me
the tapestry of my own luck.

Upon a newborn moon
fate knocked upon
your door already..
As it is flowing fluidly
between potential timelines..
is just about the worst time
to feel torn and stuck.

For, by the time
that all its strange
and crooked
twists and bends
at last solidify..
A second time, indeed,
upon your door..
it shall not knock.

By then, his heart
already would become
still matter..
in wait for claiming
by a willing hand..
if, by the time
the sand within the
hourglass runs out,
your hand does not..
then it shall be
the hand of forces
that inevitably
led it there..
By will to power
of The Elder Gods.