A Fate Worse Than Death

white graphing paper
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

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.

 

 

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