I went through the motions.
I danced the peasant dance
when I was meant for the solo as the king.
I sang the song of the quail
when I was blessed with the pipes of the nightingale.
I spoke the word of the layman
when I was destined to speak the words of the demagogue.
I left my quiet farming town for the bright lights of another city.
I said, “Luck be a lady tonight.”
But I came back because of fate.
As the king.
I slipped down the slope into the curse that shrouds my farming town.
I fought against the Will and found myself unbecoming.
I’m frozen to this place like a tree root that wont die.
I’m the peasant. again.
The quail. again.
The layman. again.