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Date Posted: 09:54:46 11/10/02 Sun
Author: Giovanna Zammit
Subject: The Hand of Fate

Two pillars stand amidst the dawn that speaks of high and low,
it's one's delight to clutch the morn the other won't let it go.

One's test of strength is by the might of wandering more afar,
the other's wont is to refrain from speaking words that bar.

There came a wandering minstrel near, and looked up to gate,
on one side she saw crown's glow on the other the feet of fate.

She thought to choose by way of heart and drew one pillar to,
to mark the step she'd have to take in order to get through.

The minstrel sang words to pass the barrier to next stage,
and loved the one that spoke to her more brightly unafraid.

The song it mellowed by her ear like wine in ringing glass,
and aged longer than a reframe the speaking was to pass.

It rang and sang and settled on the wandering minstrel's ear,
the brighter still she sang the more and loved what she could hear.

With one eye in the middle then she peered up high to low,
saw love's crown playing bright delight and foot tapped to let go.

The song it spoke of wandering far more brightly than of brass,
and angles heard her graceful hymn to speak the words to pass.

The dawn it shook the hourglass sands and took both pillars through,
and on the break the minstrel rode the highway on the blue.

It's not by chance the changing orbs ride double to translate,
the shifting dawn of dark and light the song of wandering fate.

The minstrel caught the stepping stone and clasped a hand outdrew,
and wisdom spoke more gracefully than she ever knew.

By her word she sang a vow to spread both high and low,
the hand of fate and brightest crown are passed by letting go.


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