Chosen One Of Fate

Chosen One Of Fate
© Surazeus
2026 03 22

Since I am not the chosen one of fate, 
destined to wander wherever I choose, 
I lounge with leisure by the rolling stone 
that has not rolled in eighty years or more, 
soft tufts of moss thick pillows for my head, 
and savor joy of life till I am dead. 

If I perform the chosen one of fate, 
wearing gold mask of Jupiter I stole 
from ancient gallery of long-dead gods, 
I might win election as president, 
so I can found universal health care 
with money Midas stole from working hands. 

Fortune deceives the chosen one of fate 
by tricking me to believe I deserve 
wealth my ancestors gained from hands of slaves, 
so I follow Siddhartha out the door 
to meditate on mountain peak of truth 
till I release desire to own it all. 

Though I replace the chosen one of fate 
when the nine-tailed fox switches my timeline, 
I achieve global fame as novelist 
who chronicles quest of the common soul 
to overcome suffering with brave heart, 
transformed into the Superman of faith. 

When I become the chosen one of fate, 
trapped by obsessive passion to be real, 
I stand on stage of dancing skeletons 
to sing in theater of the absurd 
satires depicting tyrants who steal light 
and strut around as if they own the world. 

Assistant to the chosen one of fate, 
I type their stories on keyboard to code 
dramatic plays for television screens 
depicting humble heroes of our land 
who fight for justice and freedom for all 
who dwell in fertile land of Zathamar. 

Averse to play the chosen one of fate, 
when Galadriel rises from Lake of Dreams 
and gives me shining sword Excalibur 
with mission to guard vales of Avalon, 
I kneel and pledge my heart to her command 
then judge at Gates of Eden day and night. 

Because I am the chosen one of fate 
in glorious pageant of my daydream play, 
I run through maze of myths past fallen gods 
to guard the Tree of Knowledge from cruel thieves 
who bulldoze Garden of Eden to build 
shopping mall and church with vast parking lots.