PYTHIA

By Sean M. Palfrey

She spoke in quatraines   

Trying to decipher her future

Making no predictions

Only glimpses of a fate

Half-promised at the bottom

Of a bottle of cheap wine

She stared into the dark liquid

That turned the cracked glass  

Into a makeshift scrying mirror

The trance was always deep

The visions always fleeting

The messages so unclear

Every plan was a broken promise

To some alternate self   

That sat on an astral plane

Out of reach from her grasp

An echo of an unheard truth

Projected onto the cave wall

A fool's journey read in cards

From Kether to Malkuth

Ambiguous and vague

The tragedy of lovers

Is that it's always the same

In the end

#darkpoetsclub