Are we just pawns?
Pawns in a gratuitous game of chess,
An amusement for gods veiled behind lofty clouds?
Are we mere mortals, no more, no less,
Destined, predestined for some predetermined end?
Are we ill fated prior to nativity?
‘tis a harsh fate then,
‘twill be futile to fight it, won’t it?
We would have been preordained to fall short.
What then is destiny?
An inexorable preset end
Perchance, it’s whatever happens in the end?
Was that the reason for Judas’ treason?
Was he damned beyond all reason,
Doomed; accursed before the beginning of days?
Am I destined not to know, to be perplexed?
Then it’s all futility, no use fighting this fate.
So what if peradventure,
For one and thirty pieces of silver,
The Maestro he did betray,
What would become of his fate?
Would he destiny have thwarted?
Mayhap, it would have been predestined,
Destined, some crooked destiny to thwart destiny.
Somewhere, up yonder,
In that fathomless inscrutable blue,
Do hallowed Deities congregate and ponder
Over senseless games of chess,
If it’s to be or not to be,
One and thirty pieces of silver.
*****August 19, 2007*****
(I once listened to someone preach about destiny. According to him, Judas Iscariot was destined to betray Jesus for exactly 30 pieces of silver, the said person even spoke in King James English. I wrote this after listening to him)