Enter, our fate – Poetry

Enter, our fate

By J. A. Weymouth


So to hear that fate

who crumbles sleep

enters the place of will

to no rest


But oh, that red

that rattles my breast

Caress? No colours

ought. Seems to the eye


Through the turtle shell

A sage ponders

Could I envy?

Such clear thoughts?


Led through fields

of obtuse trees

for the Shepherd

There they sit, passive.

He weeps.