Random Leaf #1921 precisely cut

It was all a ploy,

a plan long ago orchestrated.

He knew of it.

He knew the script,

he knew the scenes,

he knew how the director would react.

He even knew who the writer was.

And when his moment

had finally arrived—

even with hesitation,

even with the urge to back out—

he couldn’t.

He knew of the strings;

he saw them.

It is unfortunate that those without,

and even those with,

cannot see them—

but he could,

and a few others too.

They made him the villain.

Perhaps it was the strings’ fault,

but he did not know that.

Only faith told him

there was a puppeteer holding the other end.

He did not want to take the dark mantle,

but that was the role he was made to play:

to be cast aside,

to be hated,

to be used as an example.

To be called a sinner

for an order

he was made unable to disobey.

What more could they take after?

His wings were torn,

his body broken.

Oh! Orpheus,

if only you knew

of an innocent angel

who, very much like you,

loved only two things:

to be loved,

and to play music.