Prophecy

Poetry

Photo by Joshua Bayliss on Unsplash

Sweet gift of prophecy,
let me call upon you.
Bitter gift of sight,
let me call you near.

They say there is magic
in the way the words turn,
(the words turn the world
and the world turns it
round)

Sweet gift of prophecy,
now I call upon you,
harsh gift of sight,
I beckon to thee

Show me the morn
when all will be born
show me the dusk
when we die

Show me the dawn
that brings wings upon it
show me the twilight
that lies

They say there are patterns
that few can see
so tell me, tell me,
your sweet prophecy

I ask for good fortune,
please oh please,
I ask you down on bended knees
to end this run of heartbreak

Show me,
tell me,
please