Maktub

Do we hold the power to change the future?

Under the weeping moon he sat,
in angst and agony.
suspense settling in ,
wearing the twilight as a robe,
hiding from the approaching apprehensions,
will this incessant incandescence ever end ?

White satin clouds lingered,
his fate fascinating?
destiny diverting?
he heard them drifting daintily..
"Maktub"..they muttered... .
.
Overanalyzing...
paralyzing...
Kindling kismet exposing itself,
panoramic perils parading his mind,
battling bravado.

Inexorably at terms with the endless ebbing of existence,
he now lays liberated,
curiosity crept in ,
pried and cried,
tears of redemption..salvation...elation