And Still You Ask

Even the fates can lie. 
I knew this, from the ages ago, 
When mothers wept, and children screamed in pain, 
The sound sweet harp song to those who plucked the strings. 
Wolfhearts howl now, disbelieving 
That the fates would lead them so astray 
As into the clutches of the enemy 
Like a dance, all part of the mad dance, 
That's been as it is forever ...
... and you ask ... this?

They paint paths so broad as to seem safe.
Don't believe them.
Don't trust them.
What care they for individual joy,
When by their command, stars are doomed.
Because, so they decree, it is as should be.
Read the lines of my face,
Marked by tracks of their touch.
Lines of tears, see you?
Or lines of fire, soul-carved in infinity's silk?
...and still ... you ask ... this?

What are they, in the tumult they create,
But pieces of the multiverse,
Overseers of dreams,
Carvers of nightmare,
You may, indeed, ask, fool,
But they will never listen.