A Fate Worse Than Death
Forget all choice, forget all thought,
Forget responsibility –
For ain’t you heard they’re worth as nought;
Our will is broke but sure ain’t free.
For all the world is but a stage,
And all its folk are actors thence;
With scripted lines on unseen page,
Directed by the Higher Sense.
For take one atom, set it stray,
And watch it ripple, interact –
With those it wasn’t meant to play,
Till all those careful plots are wracked.
But if our input’s fake and stripped,
Then thinking such seems wry to me:
For saying thus, we speak a script
With wicked sense of irony.
My words, my moves, my thoughts ain’t mine –
The puppeteer, he runs the show.
It isn’t me who writes these lines,
For they were written long ago.
Ah, predestination – the only downside of time travel.