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~ Poetry by me ~

The Norns 

What shall I spin, sisters, what shall I spin?
A tale full of wonder, both happy and grim.

Nimble young fingers are turning the spindle,
twisting the skein of the dawn of mankind.
Stardust as wool swirls on the spool,
binding and winding the wyrd of a world.

Ive rolled up all yarn from long ages yore--
Full is my spindle. Would you know more?

What shall I weave, sisters, what shall I weave ?
A story of mans age, of glory and grief.

Supple hands work the warp and the weft,
shooting a thread of golden and red;
Patterns of doom appear on the loom,
the fall and the rise of foolish and wise.

The shuttle shifts to the farthest shore--
Full is my loom now. Would you know more?

What shall I cut, sisters, what shall I cut ?
A tale of all endings, of ashes and blood.

Withered old hands are whetting the knife,
clipping the cloth and ripping the strands,
sharp scissors shear the Tree from its roots,
falling stars flare in the world-fires glare.

Ill sweep the floor and close the door--
Ive cut the loose ends, sisters. Would you know more ?

2006 Michaela Macha

License: This poem may be freely distributed, provided it remains
unchanged, including the copyright notice and this License:

This work by Michaela Macha (www.odins-gift.com) is licensed
under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives License.

Image: Norns, by Arthur Rackham.