Fate No More

Determinism is all the rage of late.
Apparently, you can't reach a decision.
There is no vacuum. What there is is fate,
unfurling with a clockwork like precision,
with every action leading to the next,
in ways that are predictable if only
one had the math to do it; Still, perplexed,
some popular, and most just sad and lonely,
we stumble as the future turns to past,
predictable, but not in ways that matter,
and dying think we're free, we're free at last,
when all we were is but a blotchy splatter
on a gigantic, universal graph.
Where each line ends, though few have had enough.