The weavers of fate.
The movements up late.
A reason to scream.
That always sit and wait.
Look up or down
And they're silently there.
Why are they here?
Is it only to scare?
The reliever of pests.
Yet they are one themselves.
Looking for shelter
And bringing all kinds of hells.
Where did this fear come from?
Was it something we learned?
Does a bad experience
Mean it's a bias they've earned?
Some will say yes,
Some will say no.
Each new experience
Creates the answer we show.
But something we know for sure.
Something that is certainly true.
Is something ancient.
Yet for some quite new:
That they are the weavers of fate.
And the movements up late.
And once they've weaved their webs,
They will always sit and wait.
YOU ARE READING
The power of emotions
PoetryThis is a poetry book: some are positive, some are negative and some unintentionally turn out deep and/or spiritual because that's part of me. I'll try to make as many poems as possible positive though :) I'll add to this whenever I feel like it an...
