There, look there, is the path laid before us,
Not clear to see exactly what is there.
Yet, the stars have aligned and chosen this,
So we must blindly trust where it’s leading,
And accept the stumbles as they occur.
Know that this is what it’s supposed to be,
And to ask further questions is absurd.
This concept answers to many titles,
Destiny, fate, whatever you call it,
This was meant to be; this is how it is.
Different cultures and religions around,
All have an idea of what her job is.
In effort to know the ‘why’s’ in the world,
Since not knowing is a painful thing to bear.
Her most notable entrance is here:
Where ancient Gods dwell atop a mountain.
And the followers of them believed that
Old ladies called Fates weave our creation
And set up our lives from cradle to grave.
The three are ancient and love all knowing
So before the birth of any mortal,
They pick these tokens that tell us our Fate
It is a lottery, a lucky draw.
The good, the bad, and the ugly are picked,
All before the birth or thought of it
These tokens are selected, and given.
And no one can complain, for The Fates choose.
Once they choose, that’s it, no take backs indeed.
Travel south and you will find a like tales,
In a place of  jinxes and spells a like;
Papyrus bare a language of pictures,
Here under the sun they wrote down stories
Of Fate, who determines: luck or unluck?
Demons and Gods, surround you before birth,
And influence luck, love, sorrows and pain.
And, of course, most importantly, your death.
After all  “One does not escape the Fate”
Travel east, in the most ancient of lands,
Where “fate” is a true synonym for “death”
Continue to travel East and you’ll find
That we are all part of a bigger plan;
A note in a song composed by a God.
In this same region, again it repeats:
One lonely God who is all-knowing,
A marionettist playing with strings.
Further and Further out east we travel,
Where Fate’s role is not focused on the cards,
But rather Love, and how it came to be.
In this story, Fate mimics the Love’s role.
The Gods would tie a small scarlet string
On the finger of a pair of true loves’.
Bound together by invisible force,
The two are destined to be together.
No matter what, the souls were bound by this.
Fate, here at least, is a helpful woman.
On an Island Nation, Fate can’t be changed.
To accept that is the best thing to do,
No matter how bad, grim, sad, or unfair.
A common theme in Fate’s big tapestry.
Done to prevent any catastrophe.
It is common enough simply to see
That there is always going to be
Despair and Grimness woven from Fate’s thread,
But what if this myth was all in our head?
What if Fate doesn’t exist?  What is there was a choice? That is absurd. That sounds fake. That sounds -- That sounds dangerous.
But what if we were not a puppet on a string?
A will, a choice, no one else but us? Composing our song line by line?
Make the choices and call the shots, on whom to love,  which way to go, and how to go about our lives.
Maybe without this concept, It wouldn’t be so easy to lay down, close your eyes and take it. Roll your eyes and blame the strings supposively attached to the one by the name of Fate.
Not to follow all the chords and strings in the song composed by Fate?
Yes, yes, that is a better way to live.
Accept your choices and blame yourself for the wrongs in life. And rejoice at the choices you make that turn out right. After all, we are responsible for taking action, blame, and the name.
We are the conductors of this life. Whether we compose a Waltz, Jazz, or country song is up to us.
Its up to us.