a timeworn legend, this isregarding an avowalof destiny and karma,or call it, kismet and fatethat assure nothing but,a soul mate for youalong with requited lovetill the end of time or you.written perhaps,upon some stone cold wallsby none other thenYuè Xià Lǎorén,the old man under the moon;humans will learnof these worded walls,that fate befalls onto.Yuè said when asked,a book of marriage is what I read;matches tracedfor who to whomcords to twine, to tie their feet.rest in this pack, they dojust on my finfor I shall decide,who’ll love whomin yang and yin.through flickers of moonlighthe traces words on the walls,a silken thread, the colour of redknots these two;a connection formedas strong as yewthey are destined lovers,despite any time or placeor circumstance that could ensue.the virtue of the cord, he does secure;ordained words, he does alight,they will meet each othernone the matter nor the casethis cord will stretch,or tangle at turnbut sever it will never,that fate will discern.because rest assured,this is the gods decreeno mortal can change this,I foresee.This is a poem written upon the legend of the Red String of Fate. A folklore that divulges theinformation of the connection of soulmates to humans, blessing this cord with the power ofthe gods.This may be just a tale, nothing but a tall tale, which leads us to yearn for the promise of truelove in the form of a soul mate. What if these red strands that are attached invisibly to theankles 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 anotherin temperament.Resonance occurs when a frequency matches another at an explicit moment, leading it to inturn, vibrate at the greatest amplitude possible. Temperament happens similarly inaccordance 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 companybecause loneliness can be a stifling drug.It could be with an old friend who you haven’t seen in forever and you decided to reminisceabout 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 formysteries tallied with your thirst for suspense.It could be with your best friend, despite how busy either of you are; when you set aside anhour for one another, the most hysterical tales are unleashed at your local McDonalds overcheesy fries.It could be with your Ma, when she narrates tales on what a trouble maker you were andhow 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 inadvertentlyto chase away another sleepless night from your lives by hashing out the latest show oneither of your binge watching lists.It could be with an acquaintance who you merely saw in the halls on a daily basis, butwho’ll know how to comfort you when you’re heartbroken over the news of yourgrandmother’s death.It could be with a passer-by whose kindness will help you, when you lose your phone at apeculiar 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 endattached 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?What if.