astrolonauts

with every fate that hangs
the balance pulls straight down to you
the strings run up and down
and we can't see what they're tied to
all puppeteer conspiracists
theorists of destiny,
our skyward eyes search heaven
for what it will make us be
we scrawl on charts, the stars to scry
or read in scriptures dark designs
we think we spy the shape of fate
our shadows guide the moves we make
we know what happens had to be
we're almost right, but wrong so far
we've got the spyglass wrong-way-round:
the choice was only ever ours,
we are not ruled by distant spheres,
they don't pull strings for you, my dear
the choice was only always ours -
we hold the strings that pull the stars