A Pair of Fateful Poems by S. T. Brant

Epic Morals

Fate is sin… 
Others pay our sins, and we’re charged theirs. 
Destiny… fate is what we owe. 
Destiny assumes our debt; through fate we pay. 
Destiny we’re owed, and we collect. Fate we owe: Fate collects. 
Destiny’s our charge! Fate, the debt.

On the Tree of Death

There’s naught that succors skin- it consumes its wounds. 
Alack! the soul! It beats, beats against its trunk and needs balm. 
Healing is its ever-need; it’s bruised consistently. Yet that contusion’d entity.
Would, nonetheless, abuse itself on Death and never tire! It would shake upon that dying tree 
Until it felled! The spirit never gives, it ever-breathes.


Published by Shane Brant

Las Vegas high school teacher.

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