Photo Credit:yayaver.blogspot.com

You saved me once
at a time when nothing
could pull me
from the muck.
I wonder
if I have ever saved you.
You told me once
that my words
meant more
than all the words
under the stars
and that no one else
talked to you
the way my whispers did.
We had an ephemeral moment
and a fleeting two weeks
and a lifetime of longing.
We keep being drawn
back inside that
cocoon of us
and I wonder if this is
This idea to be destined
feels like a trap,
like we are forced out
of our own control,
our own choice.
Ancient peoples
based entire belief systems
on the idea of fate,
of wyrd holding the reins.
Western systems
tie that responsibility
to God,
but is it real?
Am I destined
to hold you again,
to feel your rescuing fingers
ensnare me
in their tight,
warm grasp?
I don’t know.
Perhaps it’s easier
to rely on
uncontrollable forces
so that we don’t have to make
any moves.
We can stay safe
in our illusions
that everything
will work out fine.
With our stay,
our dreams will arrive
at fruition
and our smiles
will turn up their edges
in believing disbelief.
If fate exists,
you will come
on your own;
I will feel your hot breath
on my skin.
If destiny is doomed,
I will have to find the courage
to choose.
Either way,
the answers are always
too far to touch.

Written in response to the Daily Prompt – – Que Sera Sera


4 thoughts on “Wyrd

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  4. Pingback: Destiny’s Kiss « A Shade Of Pen

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