Can a boulder, sitting on the ground, start to roll?
Can the fire, burning in the pit, be cold and damp?
Will the tree, rising high, fall apart?
No, and no, and no, and no~
All things are, as all things will be~
Forever and always, nothing is free~
And yet, and yet, and yet and yet-
The man will lever the boulder aside,
The fire put out at the end of night,
The tree struck down, made into parts.
For though things left alone, shall stay the course,
an outside hand merry can play~
And you and you and you and you-
Do you think, your fates are frozen?
They would be, forever, and always, stay chosen-
But worry not, things aren't that clear-
For though free will is an illusion, our fate is not certain-
We are the dancing shadows, that is our gift, our burden.
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