Eldest daughter:
What was not meant to be
What future never held
Your soul not meant to see?”
Middle daughter:
“You thought love a belief,
Beyond the laws of Time
Now ‘midst the reality,
Of an unbounded grief
You think it but a thief?
Metaphor knows no crime”
Youngest daughter:
“Let Fate become superfluous
An hourglass where there’s no time
And when Truth becomes absurd
You shall find it in a rhyme:”
All three:
“Love is not a constant
But is the child of chance
Ever close- yet ever distant
In a perennial dance!”
By Comte Almaviva
1 comment:
This poem has the spirit of Yeats, I think. As the daughters of fate, they console the lover of his fate even as they must remain resigned to theirs.
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