I gaze into the crystal ball,
eager fortunes and fierce dreams to find,
the smoky scene is quartered,
into sections the interpretations are spread,
their great divide.
There is something special about these areas
that makes one tingle and shake,
the magical moments of being able to envision
another’s hopeful future,
though occasional destitution features,
their saddening fates.
The vibrations of the visions,
they tell me to absorb them,
then move along, along,
there is no point in lingering past my welcome,
the spirit world assures me of this,
to remain longer would be inherently,
The spirits’ fleeting presence seeps
into and around
the crystal ball’s view,
telling me to reveal?
No, to withhold,
I understand this is the correct thing to do.
May the querant’s hopes be as receptive as
naked skin upon electrified flesh,
a certain truth he wonders,
or when she says,
tell me old,
share my fate determined ever
softly or bold.”
But, I cannot,
even if I am paid for the service,
a true teller obscures,
does not specifically state one way or another,
and all in due course.
Instead I smile and dote upon their
accompanying card reading,
they don’t need to continue
their obsession as to what their fortune might be,
unworthy of pursuing,
little point in trying to find.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
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