The Writing On The Wall

The Writing On The Wall

Kether Muse ©

10.27.2014

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.