Thread of Destiny

This crimson cord tied tight around my neck, wrist, ankle.
It is an existence bestowed upon us,
Like a journey we embark, never to look back.
Every step on a sharp spine,
Every bleed on my body.
I shiver when clueless, unknown the journey; the future was never told.
But remember: you hold unto it.

Every path snapped, frayed, tangled, or resilient
To the Unseen road not as clear as it should,
But as clear as it would.
I feel glued to yet-to-come,
Suffocated by the controls:
An entity? God? Fate? Reality? Nature? A person? Gods?
Who or what controls the spinning?

We walked barefoot, aching, but kept walking
For the journey is far more ahead.
Every bleed to get to the final stop
Then do we get satisfied or regretful?
Is it the thread that holds my destiny,
Or I control it?
Where does it connect to? Or lead?
A vibration deep in the bone.
A constant pull...
Is it guidance or a leash?
Or when my thread brushes yours?
The thread disappears:
"It vanishes into mist ahead..."
"I trace its path by touch alone..."
Does it know the destination, or just the way?
The only certainty: it stretches onward.