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