Did you not know you never make a choice?
Have you not learned your acts are not your own,
and all you do is at some higher voice
you must obey, although to you unknown?
Some smirking universal dramatist
hath writ your lines, for you to act and be,
your speeches fit the plot, or would desist;
Pierrot, you dance for them to laugh to see.
When you laughed yester eve, it was not you,
yours was a mirth ages ere then decreed,
and your regret, ordained too, had no need.
You were the spinning leaf the long wind blew.
Yet do not cease to cling, since you must fall.
That leaf best spins which waits. This is your all.
Published in Belmont Miscellany, 1934
By JK Burnham