Friday's Whims of the Time Traveler 51.0: October 2nd, 2007

Moira
by Belinda Roddie

Out in autumn fields where the wheat is summer gold

Catching butterflies in hopes of never growing old

Every hue and pattern gives them all a different name

The children hope by this, their lives will never be the same

And when the glass jars shatter, all the colors fade to sky

While in a separate entity beneath Apollo’s eye

His bow is arched so proudly, at his love the arrows soar

But thus she fades into the ocean, swallowed by the foam

The air is heavy like a cloak upon a traveler’s brow

Alone, he waits for destiny to make another call

His name given in legend makes him raconteur and bard

But acting like the butterflies, that too will he discard

And on the water lies a dream that begs that it be saved

Before it like Pandora’s hope dies in a shallow grave

And voices raised will signify the time to help has passed

And crescent brings the spinning world to pleasant peace at last

Every wind that picks up here goes directly to the North

Where shadows of our concepts wait patiently on the shore

But they will not be visited anymore…

The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since October 2nd, 2007.