Hope, Fate and Destiny

Alone the hunter- walked through the frozen tundra. His will a plunder. The tireless snow- Beat harder at his prowess. Just to let him know. He will not survive. Fate now bore his destiny. For life he would strive. He fought to a crawl, he was a hefty burden, glaring through his shawl. He would have to yield. He had not the strength to fight, the stormy the field. He ceased to his knees, Looking through the frigid wind, flinching from its breeze. Yet a fever wisp— brushed atop his algid nose, and prickled his lips. Hope had come to him, And so his strength had returned. He bested the grim. He did not note, he’d been a pawn of fate— destiny and hope. A pawn of their game, a play in which we are moved, how they fit, the same