By JH Sayyar
O Fate, thou weave threads with silent hand,
And bend the proudest heart to thy decree;
No king nor peasant may thy will withstand,
For all must yield beneath thy mystery.
I bowed not once in youth’s defiant flame,
Believing will alone could steer my path;
Yet storms arose none but thee could tame,
Time unveiled thy sweet and bitter wrath.
Now kneeling not in fear, but humbled grace,
I greet thy turns with wiser, softer eyes;
For even loss can hold a rich embrace,
Tears may cleanse what pride did disguise.
Lead me, Fate, though blind thy lantern’s light
I trust thy dark may birth my truest sight.
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