Divine Poetry – Day 10 – Epic 2/6 (Destiny)

Who is your companion? 10 of Swords, reverse
What is your first obstacle? Justice

And thus the past is invoked
In the heart of a red rotten rose
By the sight of which has provoked
Purest Fate with only a glance at its pose,
So delicate, so broken, the surface of its petals
That with a single sight caused the deep rage which arose.
From Fate a vision more precious than all the world’s metals,
Came to me, precious golds and silvers – its very wealth, I suppose,
And I was able to see the world in a corrupted stream,
Flowing, overflowing, and moving in a blurred beam.

It was here that I saw reflected a dream
Reaching out, too weak to really see,
But by the light of a fading Sun the pictures gleam
And grow stronger in darkness, or maybe it’s just me.
What I saw next was ordinary, pitifully so,
That I almost laughed, but then seriousness surpassed,
And I watched more carefully the moving pictures slow.
With a growing sadness the story massed,
I saw Destiny’s story show.
I saw, with a horror, the water flow.

Surely, these are not tears?
Yet, all the same, the story stands.
By the power of Grace we go back years
To a point in Destiny’s life, always out of her hands,
When she first decided, with a deep certainty,
That there was only one path to take
And that was to leave, to go to the University
With all she owned, away from home, at the end of break.
Her destiny, poor Destiny, did then awake and unravel
Down the path she chose, unconsciously, to travel.

That summer was the sweetest summer,
The hottest too that the honest weather could give.
Maybe it was a warning, maybe it was trying to run her
Away from the life she chose. Kill her before she could live
Long enough to regret, long enough to worry,
Long enough to question all the things they said
When they told her that she needed to hurry
And in order to live she needed to get ahead.
University, the key to an easy future, a decent life,
To not go would be suicide with the dull edge of a rusty knife.

So naturally, our hero, the hero of this story,
Destiny, who we saw drowning in books and words,
Chose to go, least she, of anybody, miss out on glory.
With that thought she moved closer towards
The story’s beginning, though not the true,
For the true began way before
Either us, or anybody, ever knew
There was a problem we’ve come to ignore,
Such a problem that lead to Destiny’s sorrow.
Such a problem that ruined Destiny’s tomorrow.

Now, finally, it is the present.
That past is with us, now here.
We saw Destiny last back bent
Over large books and with great fear.
At this time, she is smiling, a simple happiness found.
She is younger yet, yet unbroken, basking
In her future yet to come fatally around.
She is ready, prepared, with questions asking
About how to go about life properly, smartly.
The whole heart is involved, not just partly,

And in her eyes, her mind, ready to burst,
Is the thirst she has developed recently.
Honestly though, what could be the worst
Thing to happen to her? Speaking decently,
She’s as prepared as they come, if you ask me.
Weaker ones have succeeded by far, their stories
Fueling hope in those just as unprepared, you see,
Helping to fuel dreams and destroy all lingering worries
And Doubts about the situation, the dream, the aspiration
Given by parents, teachers, government, and nation.

Who better to help her on her quest
Than a counselor with an honest face and way?
Mr. Justice, who is a pro at handling student distress,
Helps dear Destiny make a decision with no grey
Areas as to the best school for her to choose
That would allow her to be the most successful
In the area of her study, her desire not to lose,
So as to make the needed process less stressful.
But what of her study? What did she decided to live for,
Completely encased by, and the key to her future’s door?

Why, none other than History. Such bliss you see,
And she saw too, inside the past of me and you.
With the knowledge of how everything came to be-
Of the mistakes made and the history behind all we do-
She knew, oh, she knew, the power that was put into words
Laid down on pages that were conserved over the ages.
And in this knowledge she knew how to fly like one of the birds
Sitting around her High School watching students pretend to be sages.
But Mr. Justice, dear counselor, was nothing but concerned.
History didn’t make money; History was only shortly learned

In the middle of the afternoon in the back of class,
While you tried not to nap, and the teacher rattled on
About this and that. While the presidents were a mass
Of random names and facts, and you barely have the strength to yawn
As an hour drags on far too long to be humanly normal.
That is History, thinks Mr. Justice, who has been there before.
That is History that students are taught in all formal
Education, that’s the system and to want more
Is odd, so odd, and should be discouraged now
Because the future is no laughing matter, and does not allow

Mess ups, mistakes, misplacements, and misunderstanding.
So he tells her with great care, with gentle encouragement,
Trying his best, his hardest, to tell her the truth that’s demanding
Consideration of her situation, as to how management
Of the future works when he says bluntly, not stunting the meaning,
“The money isn’t in History, I mean, unless you plan to teach?
But even then it’s little money and there’s not much of a need
For teachers on the subject, how do I say it, it’s out of reach
To expect a good life from the money it makes, so I must heed
You to reconsider, to change your mind to something more,
Least you waste your potential and close opportunity’s door.

She thought and she considered. She felt her dreams wither
And replied with a sadness, knowing but not knowing why,
“It’s the only thing I want to study, but I guess, I figure,
There might be something else, surely, but could you supply
A list of choices, or something compatible to my interests?
I like to read, to write, to analyze, to study, and to help others.
As long as it meets at least some of those it makes no difference
To me what I study, I suppose. I’m not good, I might add, with numbers
So please not math, or little of it if possible, would be best.”
And with those words she laid her dreams down to rest.

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