Fate and folklore...

She usurped my place,
Spun her own robes,
My place as the spinner of fate,
The malleability of gold...

Basked in silent glory,
The new blacksmith,
The unfinished story,
The power of wits...

Sensitive of sound,
Sensitive to light,
Ten steps down,
We see what's on the outside...

The magic of folklore,
The mask of values,
In a box of pride we store,
The great laws of a few...

The more we penetrate,
That makes us one step ahead,
She's the new spinner of fate,
They write only what the exceptional have said...

Painting from the net- ( dyna-mike.net )