Muddy Field Of Fate

Muddy Field Of Fate
© Surazeus
2025 10 11

She walks across the muddy field of fate 
to ask the wingless god if she can fly 
but he crawls slowly on assertive legs 
with turtle eyes of nuanced haughtiness 
to prove that time is measured by our thoughts 
that fall as raindrops from the empty sky. 

She huddles under willow tree of fate 
to ask the eyeless god if she can see 
pure essence of the soul in bodied shells 
that vibrate with eccentric buzz of wind 
too lonely for the jagged stone of fear 
to understand why nothingness is real. 

She digs potatoes from sun-hardened clay 
to ask the handless god if she can take 
bright treasure of the emerald from the Earth 
and sell it to the mad king in the tower 
who asks if she will marry him again 
as she runs away to the river plain. 

She watches silver moon of innocence 
to ask the faceless god if she can play 
important role of accessible queen 
who listens to complains her people share 
before she renders judgment based on truth 
about finality of spirit death. 

She drives her piston-engine car of fate 
to ask the legless god if she can run 
ten thousand miles from sea to shining sea 
in ancient quest to find the Promised Land 
described by prophets in the Holy Book 
her father burns to warm cold winter nights. 

She draws new navigation map of fate 
to ask the heartless god if she can love 
every person ever born on this globe 
who fight over scarce resources of faith 
in constant conflict between old world views 
over who will control the narrative. 

She wields the gem-tipped scepter of desire 
to ask the mindless god if she can know 
weird secret of rebirth designed by hope 
to generate new child before we die 
which replicates immortal soul of genes 
as we evolve four hundred million years. 

She tears frail pages from the Book of Fate 
to ask the wordless god if she can write 
new global myth of progress humans make 
from warring factions of nationalist pride 
to prosperous United Nations of Earth 
where every soul is equal in one law.