Goddess At The Gate

I tried to view the pages of my fate
guarded by the Goddess at the Gate.
She rode a steed with mane of snowy down
galloping fast but hardly touching ground.
I wondered how much ink contained within
dried to soil the parchment of my sin.
I envisioned a fountain and a bride,
brilliant stories unfolding in her eyes,
then suddenly the sun and moon eclipsed;
I heard the words that trembled from her lips.
I saw the throng, a thousand different shapes,
and the isles of man, the oceans and the lakes;
mountains shook when the Goddess stormed the gate.

Against the cavern water gently sounds
forever deeper purging underground,
along these paths that randomness selects
the bowels of earth will dutifully direct.
The Goddess turned and breathed a heavy sigh,
the walls of fate were shorn and opened wide,
advancing forward flags and banners hailed
but in these depths I knew that she had failed.
The Goddess smiled and stood at broken gates.
I digressed and turned to suffer fate.