Oh! Destiny! Tell of the way of fate. It is inflexible in design, fatalistic and often evilly foreboding in the elements themselves. The way it feasts on the mind of the youthful, the old, and the ancient plains of the world. An undead thing it is! Uncouth in nature, yet incomprehensible. See how it scares even the mightiest of beings? To be so small, to amount to nothing in the face of it. To encompass the whole world yet nothing at all.
It bears the world in the palm of its hand, whoever shall defeat its monstrous gaze? Whoever shall stand against it? None! None at all. Woe! Woe be to those who believe they have the power to extinguish its flame. Woe to the people of power, for they have none at all compared to the light of the sun, in these lifeless, deathless, ravenous things.
Oh! Destiny! Tell of the way of fortune! In the games it plays with fate. Like the rolling of die, a constantly spinning wheel, a random tarot card. Equivocal in nature! It is an evasive thing. Olden in its ways. See how it deals the cards? See how it sits on the backs of screaming, begging men? It’s laughter echoes in the calmest of winds, the tempest of storms, the agony of the poorest men.
The one who takes the tricks! All whilst shuffling a deck of cards. Whichever one will be yours? Death and poverty? Life and wealth? Oh! Oh to be the one that deals the cards! Oh to be the one to speak the words of fortune and fate! To be prophetic, to see the unseen forces of the world. Wouldn’t it be a wonder? To take a gander with fate and fortune? To walk in the gardens of prophecy. Stared at by the eyes of gods and men alike. Oh what a blessing! What a curse…
And destiny? Tell of the way of free will, of choice, of—oh whats that? Such a thing does not exist?
What a world! What a world, destiny! To have no knight-in-shining armour, no paramour of fate and fortune. No chaos to strict, fervent order! Where is mercy? Where is choice? We will continue hearing the cries of children, the woes of women and men alike without him. Without him they are mere puppets, playing in the sandpit, unaware of the grains of time they are wasting whilst we are trapped like birds in a cage. Oh to feel the wind! To soar again with childlike wonder under the frame of the sky! To live and let live. Where is he I dare say! Where is he?
And the universe responded, He is dead.
My— what resilient position… what a farce… sneered I
Does he know I loved him? asked Destiny in a small, smitten tone.
Ah, poor destiny. To lose the thing it hunted like a sort of cat with a ball of yarn. To crush Choice’s indominable spirit, its indominable will and courage underneath it’s metaphorical heel. I mocked. You parasite.
Hush now, said the Universe. It reads our words.
So what if they do? Let them read all about what it is I have to say!
I rose before the word for earth, before the tempo they named sound. I have no crown, no destiny, no rule, no god and no end. I was alive before the universe had a name, before these beings here learnt grief. How uncanny! You might say. But is it not within my right? I am no observable creature like you may think. Rather I am older than existence. I was predestined within space itself.
You can call me ruin, the endless, peerless void.
I’ve watched champions rot in divine light, I’ve seen heroes lose the fight and villains win time and time again. I’ve seen civilisations rise and fall. I’ve seen empires made and break and time turn even fossils into sand. I-
Stop now, said the Universe. They have no right to know more.
I have the right to share what I wish, do I not?
Not now, destiny murmured. You are ranting and raving again. It makes you look foolish, arrogant in your disposition.
Whatever, I scowled as galaxies flickered and died and then disappeared into the mist of space.
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