I was never certain whether it was the grim
Tenacity with which this universe enforced
Its every rule or the compulsive tendency
Of nearly every member of my species,
All ourselves products of those same rules,
To fantasize fractures in that unbending
Law that was weirder. Our human world
Reeled with tales about natural law broken,
And to state the obvious, that it never broke,
Risked being pinned down somewhere
On the spectrum running from accusations
Of pig-headedness to executions for heresy.
Every population had its tales of magic
And wonder, magic and wonder being
Always instantiated in some flouting
Of a well-known rule. Humans flew, beasts
Granted wishes, gravity was switched off
As easily as a flashlight, lead turned to gold,
The sun paused in the sky, people returned
From the dead, and other people never died.
I understood the urge but not the conviction.
I wanted to fight the world without requiring
Anything purely miraculous to happen to me.
I found the narrow seam, the shadowy ravine
Where the odds were staggeringly long
Against my wishes and me but not needing
Anything outside of the rules to occur for me
To beat them. And then, in that bent desert
Of twisted trees, I leaned over and fell in.
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