At the heart of Trials of Destiny lies a struggle of self-discovery through the halls of power, masked figures, and shifting truths. A faun, the eternal dreamer, steps from the forest into the court, donning armor he found by the ghost of a knight in a field. To wear the suit is to engage in the theatre of history, to submit oneself to the trials of those who have come before. And yet, the deeper one walks, the more apparent it becomes: the journey is not through a kingdom of men, but through the mind itself.
This is a story of ambition, seduction, and betrayal an odyssey into the machinations of power, where every lesson is a test, every gift a snare. The King, he discovers, is a reflection of the self, of history ~ he praises, then undermines. Teaches, then mocks. It is a method familiar to any who has stood before a so-called mentor, drooling promises of ascension.
TRIALS OF DESTINY I
I came to a boulder in the field,
Glinting bright,
Bathed in pale moonlight.
It moved;
Armor smooth, solvent in its healing.
A sword lay broken at his side,
KNIGHT “What if?… What if?… What if?…”
The knight repeated over and over.
KNIGHT
“I’ve been watching,
Since the first time you galloped through.
Did you not think I saw you from the woods?”
FAUN
“Watching me?”
KNIGHT
“You gave me life,
There is more at court,
More etched upon its walls.
Your presence has been known,
Since Elysium’s first stones?
Don’t you know who you are?”
FAUN
“And who are you?” I asked.
KNIGHT
“I was your guard,
Before this world I did depart.”
FAUN
“How can this be?
Here you stand before me.”
KNIGHT
“This field ~ I will never leave.
For I will wait where I was slain.”
You gave me a kingdom,
A life of wealth.”
FAUN
“I don’t understand.
I am just a faun from the forest.
You must mistake me for a man.”
KNIGHT
“Today your thoughts are small,
Because you’ve only seen a glimmer,
Of your destiny.
You called his name,
And they heard your cry ~
It echoed through destiny’s pages,
Your thoughts are threads through Elysium’s sky.
Take these robes.
You will pass as one of the court.
Find the library. There… you’ll see.”
It was days and nights,
Through fields of dew,
Dawns falling to mountains & caverns.
I ran until my footsteps,
Vanished into the mist.
Before the fog fell in blue.
Emerging from the woods at last,
The entrance rose before me,
Wreathed in vines,
The library’s door.
I stepped inside.
The walls stretched with paintings,
Yet they moved, alive,
Each a portal to paradise.
I watched for hours, enthralled,
Each frame a door.
Could I knock?
Would they make me wait?
Cinematic poetry by Laurence Fuller
@LaurenceFuller
www.laurencefuller.art
