by Tenebris

Created on: July 01, 2008

To cherish ...

The chains we wear are of our making
No one forced them on our back
Yet give us freedom for the taking
Would we notice e'en the lack?

On ourselves the coils that bind
The vows through death and sickness last
Yet be it cruel (or be it kind)
The wise man knows when parting's past.

How far will you beguile the Fates
How far their spinning taunt?
Firm threads do not respond to baits
A dead ghost will not haunt.

'Tis but your conscience rubs, my dear
The memory of each minute
You made your bed with every jeer
Now rest you well within it.

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