Threads of Tomorrow
Fate weaves the fabric of our fleeting days,
Like tangled threads beneath a weaver’s loom,
I pull the strings, but do they shift or stay?
Or does the hand that guides belong to doom?
I wonder who decides the dawn’s new light—
Is it my heart, or some far distant star?
Each step I take feels more like borrowed flight,
The ground beneath me both so near, so far.
Sometimes the sadness falls like autumn leaves,
A quiet rain that washes joy away,
Yet still, the wind of time forever weaves,
And whispers that tomorrow might be gray.
I miss the days when time was but a toy,
When mornings bloomed like flowers in the spring,
Now shadows chase the innocence of joy,
And every choice seems tied to everything.
Do I have reign, or am I just a pawn
Moved by a force too vast to understand?
The road ahead is both a dusk and dawn,
And I can only guess where it may land.
What waits beyond the door I cannot see?
Do stars return to where the darkness lies?
Or does the soul break free, like wind through trees,
To dance beneath eternity’s wide skies?
Confusion wraps around me like a shroud,
I strain to glimpse what’s hiding in the haze,
But still, the threads of fate are tightly bound,
And I am lost in destiny’s long maze.
Copyright © Keith Hove | Year Posted 2024
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