Seeming Fate

We  sow
And we may grow,
And in countless delight
We may take flight.

Time is callous. Time is pathetic. Time is a foe.
We plant and we reap what we sow.

We are dying soul, yet ageless perpetuity,
For we are mine of vision, and beauty.

We in cloud nine
With our hearts swing,
We are yet a dispersed current of time,
It entwines us like whirlwind.

Fate is a man’s mold.
Banish in minds not, behold.

You carve out, and you are destined.
You leave it to the unseen, and you sin.

Copyright: Welkin Siskin