The Moirai

Across a gray forest of fallen trees,

Lays a black pond of missing fish.

It is no normal water that fills this pond,

It is the water in which the Moirai bath.

Surrounded by mist and death and fear,

The Moirai wash their bodies clean.

First comes Klotho, young as the dawn,

Planting a seed, as she washes her feet.

Then comes Lachesis, mother and wife,

Feeding a plant, as she washes her breast.

Finally comes Atropos, old as the world,

Pulling the faded, as she washes her eyes.

Men cry as the three come together,

For they know they cannot escape

The black pond of missing fish,

Where life and death are joined together

And all fate is set in tears…