A man in a brown robe,
With eyes that do not see,
And yet, they see everything.
In His hands, he holds a book,
Chained to him by the wrist.
Or maybe,
He is chained to the book?
Where He walks,
There are no footprints.
And no shadow follows Him,
Even on the brightest days.
He watches time pass,
Not at normal speeds,
Like you and I,
But at hyperspeed,
Seeing things before they happen.
Their Destiny.
He sees the car crash,
Before it even starts to slide.
He sees the young woman,
Growing old and frail.
While her lover turns 28,
And stops.
He stops to watch a tree,
The tree grows from a tiny sapling,
To a mighty oak,
Its branches reaching far.
He sees the next President,
Five years old and eating paste.
But above all else,
Destiny sees the end of the world.
And this saddens Him the most.