by Markus Reale

Created on: February 20, 2011   Last Updated: March 01, 2011

Fortune Teller

My eyes are deep craters of glass but I’m not a fortune teller,

A dark door with rusted locks secures my spiritual centre,

An inferno of smoke and mist cloud my mental cellar,

But, the stained glass cannot speak of the key needed to enter.

It seems I’m not a ball of crystal you can look through,

I’m just another mirror, but one that looks into you,

Beyond the veiled masquerade is an image of demise,

A picture painted by an honest man, but framed by lies,

The art on display may be the only thing shown to me,

I might be blind, but I don’t lack vision, I can still see,

Wisdom, knowledge, insight and intuition,

Those are not the qualities of a man who lacks vision,

Foresight appears to he who observes the present as a whole,

When I consult and study the prophetic tablets and scrolls,

I foresee onerous trials created for ominous sinners,

Disfigured forms reflected in a hall of cracked mirrors,

An intense hate for the human demons holds all your attention,

But, nearby lies a hall of valiant heroes that is never mentioned.

In the heart of my soul, is where my dream stands,

Not in my eyes, but in my wrinkled hands,

I can feel the words as they leap off the page,

Flames that lick the bars of my mental cage,

Knowledge is light, and light is the key,

It makes what is captivated by ignorance, free.

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