Son of 6 word story -- 6 (or less) lines of 6 words each

She weaves a tapestry of Fate,
Her loom big as the sky.
Here, a thread of shining silver,
There, a patch, coarse and snarled.
And yet how beautiful the pattern,
Viewed across the gulf of space.
 
A traveller stands atop a hill,
Gazing at the new lands below
He find treasures of all kinds
But doesn't seek to keep them.
The pull of exploring draws him:
What lies over that next hill?
 
She weaves spells to be sold,
With a magick for every occasion.
Used by anyone, so she's told,
Or those with a mystic persuasion.
Although she charges but little gold,
Pride of work gives her elation.
 
I dream of far exotic lands,
The birds and beasts of legend:
The roc, the phoenix, and corkindrill.
And fiery fruits, and incense trees,
Whose rich perfumes I’ll never smell.
 
Sleep evades me, thoughts torment me
Angels and devils haunt my consciousness
sparks pulse under my skin, jittery
jumpy I fidget, tossing and turning
sleep will not consume me yet
laying awake I hope for salvation
 
A Queen of regal bearing sits
Upon her throne of finest oak.
About her head, a fairy flits
And dryads swirl around her cloak.
As Faerie Queene, she issues writs
Within her court of mystic folk.
 
Coughing, I choke on the ash.
I gasp desperate for fresh air.
My burning eyes fill with water.
I try, but I can't breathe.
Slowly, pain grips my heaving chest.
I suffocate on a grey planet.
 
Twisted, blackened thing, lying in state,
Shrouded in the trappings of glory:
Where now your divine presence, Lord?
Did you ascend to the stars?

Or did you scatter like dust?
Dust like the rest of us!
 
tortured by impossibilities my mind rages
longing for respite, my eyes close
the torment lingers twisting heart string
insomnia prevails, thought wander, traveling yonder
through space, time, to distant shores.
what will I find, no-one knows
 
Gowned in the deepest midnight blue,
Decorated with manifold perfectly shining stars,
She sits in the night sky
Along with her sister, the moon,
To illuminate the phase of darkness
And guide the sailors safely home.
 
A night garden of subtle malignity:
Flowers swollen with a poisonous nectar
Open their petals under the moon,
Shedding a strong, sweet, sensuous fragrance,
That nevertheless smells faintly of corruption.
 
At world's edge, the sun rises
My ship sails into the east
On waves of clear amber light
A crystal spray before her bow
Is tinted like rubies, topazes, garnets.
 
The world is like a garden
Full of variety, full of colour.
Even though there are roses here,
There are thorns to offset them.
The same goes for common weeds.
They increase appreciation for the rest.
 
Fragile, transparent wings adorn her back,
And no bigger than a leaf,
The faery of the great forest
Watches to see who dares trespass
In her vast, magnificent woodland glade,
Holding a sword: Beware her sting.
 
Holy Tipheret, my bright creative light,
Brighter than anything in the firmament:
Your compassionate wisdom and eloquent grace
Inspire such fair and fruitful thoughts!
 
Waves crash against a forbidding shore.
Black cliffs jut into black sky,
Dark and overbearing with heavy clouds.
The longboat allows its passengers off
To explore this dark, hellish place.
 

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