She used to be alive Not hanging on by a thread Not worrying if she’d survive She was living life instead Then the lights went out And the fears began to shout And she sat in the dark with no desire to face another day Out of place, out of grace She retraced all the ways she had failed Then she thought why waste another day? There’s nothing left to say Nothing left but today Plans already underway But there must be a reason to stay
Laying back in the tall grass in the place I was born. The shape my body makes is a heavy sadness. I sigh as if it made the weight leave my body.
The sky is always bluer in the mountains, that’s something to be learned with age. To be ten years old and to hear that childhood is archetypically the best years of your life. To be ten years old and to not realize the freedom there is in that.
As if clouds could hear thoughts, they cover the sky from time to time just so I forget about my narcissistic thinking.
I close my eyes. The grass feels like a sea of threads. I’m in a constant state of waiting for the needles to ***** me. I am certain they will arrive, but I do not move. Laying on the ground will never keep me grounded.
Laying back in the tall grass I feel smaller. I have failed, I have thrived. The answers to my questions hover over this field but the wind is too quick to pull them away and I know where they are. But the hard ground is starting to feel comfortable now.
The desert's longing for the rain Is longing for drops of life Longing that will continue to be awaited Dreams that I have never achieved Time that never come back And all the opportunities I've missed
Forgive me Because I'm late And for my negligence, I missed you Forever, this love is always awake But the desire to have you has vanished A red thread of my fate has been severed
One of Fate's traids Threads spun long with great twine sides From birth to the hearse
New day, new haiku! I'm covering the the Moirai aka the Fates now! They were known to be the daughters of Zeus and Themis predominantly, but I have heard their parentage vary: from Chaos to Nyx to even Gaia. One of the best parts about myths is that it's so malleable. They were in charge of the fates of mortals, from who were born to who died and each have their own unique tasks as well. Clotho was the spinner - she spun the threads of life and death to which this haiku talks about. Imagine how that sort of power of life and death in your very hands. It's truly something that is quite amazing to think about as well as terrifying.
Anyway, thank you all for growing followers, I'm forever humbled and grateful for the support 🙏🌹💜 Here's the link for the growing collection: https://hellopoetry.com/collection/132853/the-women-of-myth/ Be back tomorrow with another one! Please take care of yourselves and stay safe! Much love, Lyn 💜
The song of eastern river from afar. Once again, time has come to visit. Like the thread that you hold, time weaves and unfold. While my memories is still strong, I recite this old song. Life is cut and stilled in the midst of time, with moments engraved in heart, I sing this song in time.