The October Diaries VII | Fade
October 7,
IV. Mortals V. Without VI. Passion VII. Fade VIII. Effortlessly
To chaos are we born
Each of differing dualities
And perplexities to propagate
Patterns scattering
Truth in varying shades
While actions mark the order
Or fracture of our choice
There comes the essence
Of fortune’s double guise
Giving rise to our voice
A subtle whisper, we divine
As autumn winds bring frailty
So lay our wisdom, a passing
Season of varying waste
A telling fable, we’re told
Of contrasting sides
Born on ideas immortal
Consign ourselves, though we try
The story is never so simple
As the age-old lie
Soothing as it may seem
We were never merely
Not of one, nor two things
In a word’s sea I sink
Of choices and thoughts reeling
Drowning, it seems
Until I embrace the waves
And simply drink
Amidst the storms I weep
For pain of its tearing gales
The shrapnel of memory
Flurries threateningly
Until I step beyond the eye
I cannot breathe its air,
Uplifting with fury
Beyond safety wail its winds
Temporal and temperamental,
It could be none but I
Who summoned it
So must I, too, learn to wield it
Of all she brings,
Of all names she’s deemed
Life, Death, whatever we seem
Always does she give us this offering
To be our pain’s Master or Bearer
For if there is one or two things
So simple of our choosing
While we do step and fade
Slipping to that final crossing
Master or Bearer, we are to be
But only one, one only
For each fateless moment
Of our willful choosing