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    dots Submission Name: Wanderers' Thoughts on Fatedots

    Author: Rokhal
    ASL Info:    21, f, USA NW
    Elite Ratio:    8 - 85/71/18
    Words: 266
    Class/Type: Poetry/Trapped
    Total Views: 525
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1881

       Oroboros, the world-snake swallowing his own tail, represents cosmic unity, eternity, balance, and renewal. By Norse reckoning, the great serpent will sleep, holding his tail, until the Final Battle. The image of Fate as a tapestry with human lives the threads is likewise shared by the Norse and the Greeks.

    I wrote this after diving way, way too deep into the Supernatural fandom. Supernatural is a TV show about two guys in a cool car driving around America killing ghosts. And sometimes the world is ending.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsWanderers' Thoughts on Fatedots


    Long, long lies the yellow road, broad is the gold and black back of Oroboros.
    Steel sighs as we trace the land under the sun and moon.
    The weak old touch of ashes burns like lye, stings like saltpeter.
    Burn and blood and steel,
    Long, long lies the back of sleeping Oroboros.

    Walking man:

    Snake sleeps in the sun, under the cold moon,
    Dreaming, dreaming the stories of the world
    As we run upon his back.
    All stories end, written or unwritten.
    We run upon the road, chasing the head of Oroboros.
    When we wake him, will he feel fire, taste ash, hear steel hiss hot with steam?
    Will Oroboros speak?
    When the story ends, was anyone listening?

    Stalking man:

    Rides he, ride we, chasing the head of Oroboros.
    Ride I with steel in hand and heart
    To sever the head of Oroboros,
    To see the world unbound.
    Let linen shine,
    Let threads from loooms unwind,
    In the steam of the blood of Oroboros.

    Dark Lady:

    Sigh, sigh upon the broad black road,
    Hurrying under the sun and the pale moon,
    Bearing, bearing steel and strife and sorrow.
    Tracks of ash and burning
    Ink the gold-striped back of Oroboros.


    Ride I rides he ride we over the black and yellow back of Oroboros,
    Lightly treading, softly speaking, wary-resting,
    To no account known to none but us,
    For our hastening grave, none.
    For our marker, weeds and rust,
    Rust scattered by the back of dreaming Oroboros.

    Submitted on 2009-09-16 21:32:13     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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