When ancient Greeks devised a map of sky
and chose twelve constellations for their chart
that followed the ecliptic, did they lie
at night on mats, look up, agree to start
by giving each a name, a shape, a sign?
What foolishness to think it matters now
what they imagined then. No mystic line
ties me to superstition's heavy plow.
I once regretted being born a crab,
the Cancer title made me feel unwell.
I thought a Leo's life would not be drab
or Scorpio, a fairer fate compel.
But earth has turned, the equinox is past.
My course is mine to choose, the die not cast.
Reading this poem again, I am just blown away! So much truth in so few words! How foolish people are who think that the stars guide their paths in life! We all live by our own choices, not fate or predestination.
A wonderful sonnet, professionally done and much too good to be posting here on Poem Hunter. You should have saved it for the next contest. When I first saw the title. I thought maybe you were writing about the Zodiac killer who terrified California back in the late sixties and early seventies, and who was never caught. My brother lived in California at the time and had a friend who was on the California Highway Patrol. One of the main suspects was known to both of them, and they always tried to get a fingerprint sample from him, but the man always wore gloves. One day, they finally came up with some ruse that worked, and got the guy to take off his gloves to handle a glass. However, when they sent the glass to the lab, there wasn't a single fingerprint on it!
How fascinating! That should be a good topic for a poem. One of you should write it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a wonderful sonnet about astrology! I've always thought people who lived their lives by astrology were idiots.
Thanks for your comments, Spock!