Paen To The Three Wyrd Sisters Poem by David McLansky

The Three Wyrd Sisters
By some, the Norn
Draw out our lives
The day we're born;
Our woven Life
One piece of cloth,
Our energy,
Our sins, our sloth;
The first Sister,
Named Clotho
Spins the thread
Our lives to sew;
Oh Fate who twists
The turning spindle,
May your fingers
Be ever nimble
That my thread
Not know your wrath
As it runs
From your distaff;
Let Lachesis with her
Measuring rod,
Who measures out
The Time of Gods,
Apportion me
A lengthy span
That I may know
The mind of Man;
Let Atropos
With dreaded shears
Not cut my thread
In my young years;
Come weavers
Of the Fate of Man,
Bless my life
With your deft hands;
May your woven tapestry
Display a peaceful
Harmony
As it's hung
On castle walls,
The tales of lives
That rise and fall.