The Writing On The Wall
Kether Muse ©
The disembodied Fingers of Fate
weave stories in my dreams.
Oh, Daniel where are you now
so I may beseech of your wisdom
to decipher these foggy visions of tomorrow?
Angry voices cry out their warnings
from ever changing faces crafted of fire
whose words burn my flesh.
I stand in bewilderment reaching for a reason
that would explain my mantle of dread.
Like Belshazzar shall I let this moment pass
oblivious to my message from beyond?
In my panic my heart is like the spring rivers
swiftly cascading unrestrained and uncontrolled.
The White Rabbit hurries by
reciting his mantra, “I'm late. I'm late.”
as Cassandra stands silent vigil
with knowing in her eyes.
But my own eyes remain clouded
no matter my efforts to see the Light.
The warp and weft complete
the steady beat of the loom goes silent.
I lay down on this tapestry
knowing it was made for me
as everything else fades away
like smoke in the wind.
Even my fears have departed.
Yet still the vision eludes my understanding
as I caress the patterns around me.
I feel there is a choice to make
and assistance is not forthcoming.
The task is mine alone.
Slowly I awake as the sunlight replaces
the darkness in the shadowy rooms
of the dream temple I recently inhabited.
Looking out to the sky the patterns of my tapestry
linger there for a moment
imprinted on the swirling clouds
before fading away like a morning mist.