Clotho

Clotho


Spinning, spinning,
the drop spindle whirls
as she pulls the thread of our life
with its twists and curls,
lumpy, sometimes,
with hard bits and burrs
that her fingers let slide
to see what unfurls.

The spindle drops
fine and even at times
as the wool of our lives
gently unwinds –
overspun like a spring
that wraps and binds
when she turns it too fast
and the spindle whirls us blind.

Spinning, spinning,
the thread pulls out
Sometimes it snaps,
and life ends with a shout –
sometimes she can fix that,
but it's always in doubt -
yet sometimes, the thread stretches smoothly
until the wool runs out.