Fates Rotation

Fairest friend, may you lend your ear to me,

Whilst I transmute your verse to archaic strain,

In fourteen lines, a sonnet's majesty,

Where intricate conceits hold imperial reign.

My star of love, in constant gyre did spin,

A cosmic whirl, by cruelest fate ordained.

Alas, that we, by circumstance hemmed in,

To other's thrall, our destinies enchained.

For what is ours, that cannot be our own?

A common wont, by worldly custom taught:

One delves for gold, on fortune's throne enthroned,

Another's plaint for meagre crust is fraught.

Man seeks his hap, on Stygian vessels borne,

Past's dim spectres, by our thoughts are shorn.

©Poet Affaq 

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