The first time we met
was when we were six.
Your knees were pale and smooth.
Mine were littered with scars.

The first time we met,
They waited for the sky to fall.
They waited for days, until
they realized the sky was not falling.

Life went on.
We grew side by side.
The sky had yet to crash
into the sea.

They waited—
months flew by—
the prophecies cannot be wrong!
they said, shocked.

I told them that prophecies were just fairytales.
I was six, and I didn't believe in fairytales.
I told them they were wrong.
I was too confident.

We began as specks,
particles of dusk,
seen in a foreign place
from centuries away.

The prophecies had foreseen it.  
The oracle had spoken—
a collision so small in size,
yet so great in power

would tear the sky off its hinges
and send it crashing
through the mountains,
burying to the bottom of sea.

You were a bundle of white,
born on a boat on a summer day
as the clouds shimmered in tranquility,
and the sky reflected the sea.

I was born ****** and destitute,
with shadows so obsidian,
they claimed my soul and
set the sky on fire.

Two opposing forces like
you and me
had always been destined
for disaster.

We gather here tonight
To bask in Fate’s delight.
A tale to tell our path,
A tale of Fate’s dear wrath.

Who is fate up there,
With her shining silver hair?
Arranging constellational myths,
From her fingertips.

What can we believe of Fate?
Basking immortal in the sky,
To her we wonder why--
The stars are wrinkles in time.

What drives the stars to shine,
And what can we ask of them,
In lines and curves and light?
Can they guide us through our life?

Can Fate tell us all of this?
After all, she is made of myths.
She burned the flying Icarus,
And cursed dear Prometheus.

Who are we without our fate?
Do we know our own way?
What are we without dreams?
What are we without prophecies?

“Where is Fate?” we ask.
“Can we coax her out?”
Instead she whispers down,
Fate is found inside ourselves.

i.

Gramercy, it hast been one year now, one year of smiles, laugh's, cry's; growing together, growing
Wing's in ourn flight.

ii.

Fain I am, to seest thee at night, slumbering as a newborn, queen
Of orbiting light's, woman of mine
Insight; sagittiferous to mine
Burden's of life.

iii.

Let me clear away that vultuous countenance mine girl.

iv.

We art namelings, with ourn letter's hewed into the highest realm, noscible to the Angel's; we
We're recorded on God's
Film.

v.

Perantique we art, as we battle the being's that fell, they've broken their iron locked doorway's; to make their way out of hell.

vi.

Stand close to mine side, I canst heareth those wedding Bell's, I canst feeleth the earth to swell, as the labor pain's art now.

vii.

This place shalt sway and moan, like a drunkard without a home, the living in Christ shalt rise; with the dead already rose, silver an treasures shalt come to naught,
Home good's and store bought,
For men won't grasp their own
Thought's; as the misfortune
Cometh upon them. Lover's wilt
Love themselves, they'll seeketh life
In the devil's Lip's; for the lies he speaks art quick, powerful,
Deceiving, cunning.

viii.

Look on high mine Jane, ourn lord is coming, the globe is spinning to the drum of celestial prophecy;

None stopping wilt be, yet we art free, a king and queen with a heavenly home, with mansion's
To roam, streets followed with
Gold, with like-minded souls;
Awaiting ourn entrance.

This one year wilt lead
To an eternal precipice,
In which we shan't miss,
As all wilt take focus;

For we hath life, mine Jane
Ourn hope is this;

One son of God
Who goes by the name
Jesus; ourn hope and ourn
Reason even more to be one,
To showeth another and all
The Savior's dying love, and in him
Salvation alone, fret not mine lass, soon we shalt go home, soon all ourn waiting wilt be gone, and ourn hand's shalt hold.

Two spirit's to be;
One love,
One soul.

look up
Look up

The time is now close......



©Brandon Nagley
©Earl Jane sardua Nagley dedication ( agapi mou)
© Lonesome poets poetry