Song of History

Are mortals donkeys of the mill,
Forever walking round and roung
But never looking at the ground
To find all desires vain and nil?

Is history forever a path
Circular - that there is no past
Or unknown future to contrast
The piglets' potential bloodbath?

No! Mortals are but helpless souls
Chained to Fate, and Fate drags them
Along the path of Time; the helm
Fate - guided by the gods - controls.

And chained we are to the back
Of Fate - as Fate propels in time
And we can feel its motions prime
Dragging us slowly on our track.

A track that we can partly see -
Only the part already trekked
That previous actions had wrecked,
A string of past - a history.