When the twilight hush
and silence weaves through
the golden thread;
enchanting autumn leaves fall!
Amidst the celestial setting
two maidens stood
with backs aligned—
flame coldly twined!
O' leftward soul,
and amber crown,
why thy hair grove?
She wore the ancient bark
of the mythical trees,
And whispered the songs
everlasting wandering breeze!
Above them youbsee
the hanging woven globe,
Half sun, half night-
like a mystic robe.
It turned, it spun,
in vivid softly bled!
The dreams of the
living and of dead.
Suddenly the traveler came,
with a weary tread,
Feels like thy scholar lost!
“O spirits twinned
in dusk and dawn,
the curse or blessing
that you've drawn?
Why stand ye here,
in mirrored grace,
never turn to meet
the over and one face?”
Then spake of the autumn hue:
Thee; the past, the old, the true.
The roots run deep
in memory’s clay,
She guards the light
of all and you yesterday!
Yet spake the shade
in thy silver tone:
You are the future,
yet you unknown.
The globe above
began to hum,
A sound like harp
and beating the drum.
Like the sky grew thick
with a subtle woven mist,
felt like the senses twist.
The traveler woke and amazed,
His mind alight, his spirit dazed.
He wrote them in trembling verse—
The sisters of the woven curse.
With💙
©chrysanthemum