Soothsayer  
 
To birth the vision that she does foretell,  
I mind the figures twisting each memory  
and read the palms that have served her so well.  
 
While kinsmen stand to bolster every face,  
one's cries are locked below at close of day  
to birth the vision that she does foretell.  
 
The window closes leaving not a trace  
of mist, the iris bares to see and spray  
and read the palms that have served her so well.  
 
I know the vision that she once did chase:  
a beacon shone and highlighted the way,  
to birth the vision that she does foretell.  
 
The dust of time clings to each hidden place  
in fissured heart that flares to fight decay  
and read the palms that have served her so well.  
 
But will she ever come to find that space?  
The junction between sharp ice and sunray.  
To birth the vision that she does foretell  
I read the palms that have served her so well.