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I dip my eyes in darkness

and heaven understood it to be reprisal

My soul stared blankly into nothingness

and the gods forbade my inquiry

I assumed the bard's role to tell tales

and the overlord deemed it all unnecessary

My spirit long to rekindle the passion of creation

yet the spirits of the land sensed fatality in my actions

Do we as mortals get to choose what we see

and what we hear, and what we know

Or do we just play into the hands of some

invisible weaver arranging strands in the snow

Do we of feeble minds realize what we are here for

Or do we just just walk our lives in clueless stupor

I wrote my story in a parchment with blood

and the grand chronicler excluded it from the annals of history

I strove to win just to be able to write my own story

and the arbiter of wisdom saw it as an insanity

I yelled on top of my lungs that my fate be changed

Lo and behold - it did; out of the fine excuse for civility