Fate was a weaver
Also a poet
So she wove stories on the canvas of palms Taking time to create a separate masterpiece
On every hand
Suturing in every little detail Tying all the corners with neat knots
Creating unique plots
Then one day She got bored
Devious as her mind was
She started playing a little game One where nothing would remain the same
Took the strings out of one hand And sewed it to the other
Her hands worked in frenzy
As she mirrored the exact pattern
The same story
The same plot
On palms across the seas
Laughing to herself.
She left the last weave
Without a knot
And tied the edges in between Pulled them taut
The universe turned
to look at fate in awe
The game fate just played
Changed everything he knew
no longer could he
Play dice with the world
Or intervene
People were tied now
The strings would definitely entagle in between
He finally gave up to fate And started solving the enigma
Pulled the strings a little here
Gave a nudge there
created all those little conspiracies
Just so that
Those strings would untangle
And he would live in peace. Fate smiled to herself
Watching the universe brooding to conspire For a childish game she played
And people still wonder
How soul mates are made.



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