Within hazes of grey dwells she,
Who weaves the night and weaves the dawn;
Where Fate is caught on tapestry
And Time to lengths uncertain drawn.
There rest awaits the traveler,
And dreams the wearied laborer;
And love monarchs deprived of joys,
And sleep mothers of orphan boys.
There is no doom she does not know,
No day she does not live or spy;
There is no kingdom that will fall,
Which has not thrived under her eye.
On silk and yarn fingers agile,
Weaving the song of live and dead –
Upon her tapestry fragile:
A thread of bloody red.
If sharp and swift the sword I swing,
The hand that wields it sure and true;
Then loose I'll cut the binding string,
And fly to ends she never knew.
Tonight the night has come and fallen,
Leaving a trail of mournful tears;
In tapestries this all was written
Since the commencement of years.
The torches glare in Tirion,
Glimmering gold upon the walls;
And orange flames flare high on stone
Once more ablaze before the fall.
I watch the dreary darkness seeping
Into each heart and hearth and square;
Sense its hungry jaws agnawing
The towers tall and buildings fair.
Could I but picture the unseen!
A key to truth they hold and hide,
In lightless halls and gardens green
Where dreams and death go side by side.
Always fingers light are dancing
Amid thousand threads entangled.
Lives are shaped and cut in blooming:
Lives of kings and peasants mangled.
Into my soul the darkness ate,
I feel its eyes into my eyes;
Cruel are ways designed by fate,
Yet binding all; and truth and lies.
A hapless laugh breaks through my lips
To know the path that lies ahead.
As one sole thorn which tears and rips
Apart false dreams and untrue dread.
I would have plunged that very way
And drowned alone – or not alone.
I would have braved the Gods' own say,
Forgotten name, and kin, and throne –
But this route I would have chosen,
In tapestries by now is woven;
And against doom if we rebel,
It was our doom to so rebel.
Along with me in death I'll take
A people credulous though wise;
Even if not my choice to make,
It would have been – my own demise.
I will walk now the dire way,
To live a death few've ever dreamt.
The nightmare born of darkened day
Shall bring the dawn the song has meant –
The light which comes for other eyes to see
Is marred with blood that I will shed –
For I shall leave upon her tapestry
My fingerprints in living red.
Notes: Inspired by a discussion on Silmfics ML about Fate vs. Free Will. A birthday poem for Tyellas. Have a great birthday! And I'd give you an e-hug, too.
Disclaimer: None of the characters and settings mentioned belong to me. They are the property of the Tolkien Estate (I think).