a timeworn legend, this is
regarding an avowal
of destiny and karma,
or call it, kismet and fate
that assure nothing but,
a soul mate for you
along with requited love
till the end of time or you.
upon some stone cold walls
by none other then
Yuè Xià Lǎorén,
the old man under the moon;
humans will learn
of these worded walls,
that fate befalls onto.
Yuè said when asked,
a book of marriage is what I read;
for who to whom
cords to twine, to tie their feet.
rest in this pack, they do
just on my fin
for I shall decide,
who’ll love whom
in yang and yin.
through flickers of moonlight
he traces words on the walls,
a silken thread, the colour of red
knots these two;
a connection formed
as strong as yew
they are destined lovers,
despite any time or place
or circumstance that could ensue.
the virtue of the cord, he does secure;
ordained words, he does alight,
they will meet each other
none the matter nor the case
this cord will stretch,
or tangle at turn
but sever it will never,
that fate will discern.
because rest assured,
this is the gods decree
no mortal can change this,
This is a poem written upon the legend of the Red String of Fate. A folklore that divulges the
information of the connection of soulmates to humans, blessing this cord with the power of
This may be just a tale, nothing but a tall tale, which leads us to yearn for the promise of true
love in the form of a soul mate. What if these red strands that are attached invisibly to the
ankles of these prospective soul mates, do not refer to just romantic love?
What if, this is in regard to human bonds between people, as a whole?
The literal definition of the word ‘soulmate’ is a person who is perfectly suited to another
Resonance occurs when a frequency matches another at an explicit moment, leading it to in
turn, vibrate at the greatest amplitude possible. Temperament happens similarly in
accordance with human bonds, that amplify at chance instants.
It could be with a stranger on a subway at 11 in the night, to give each other company
because loneliness can be a stifling drug.
It could be with an old friend who you haven’t seen in forever and you decided to reminisce
about the ol’ times, on some familiar park bench in your neighbourhood.
It could be with your gramps on his secret Arthur Conan Doyle collection and his love for
mysteries tallied with your thirst for suspense.
It could be with your best friend, despite how busy either of you are; when you set aside an
hour for one another, the most hysterical tales are unleashed at your local McDonalds over
It could be with your Ma, when she narrates tales on what a trouble maker you were and
how you almost caused either of your parents, a heart attack, due to your cheekiness.
It could be with your ex, who brings back amiable memories, who’ll call you inadvertently
to chase away another sleepless night from your lives by hashing out the latest show on
either of your binge watching lists.
It could be with an acquaintance who you merely saw in the halls on a daily basis, but
who’ll know how to comfort you when you’re heartbroken over the news of your
It could be with a passer-by whose kindness will help you, when you lose your phone at a
peculiar place and your tongue remains distinct from the rest who abide there.
Maybe, you weren’t born unfinished but with a string tied to your ankle and the other end
attached else where?
What if you aren’t lost, but searching for the other end of that string?
What if letting yourself go, is the only way to find the path to that other ankle?
What if this is the candour behind the tale?
What if this is the lore of our past and present?
What if this could be enough?