FORTUNE TELLER

On the index and thumb
My chin took solace,
Neck stretched, and head in slant
To and fro, my mind traveled
Away from this cubicle I'm in.

Off like a bullet, i shoot to the seer,
To enquire about tomorrow,
Into the empty air he gazed
Looking at nothing but my somber self,
"Go to the palmist" he quietly directed.

To the palmist I ran like a mother,
Who found her lost child
Spreading my hand like a blanket
Grabbed it with a predator's force
She gave a stern look at the palm
Saw nothing, but the well crafted lines
As her head, roll swiftly from east to west.
"My child", she said in despair
"Nothing is written about you."

In the night,
When the stars were shining like a crystal
I beckoned on the astrologer
To foretell what tomorrow holds,
At the celestial bodies he gawked
Mumbling and looking down on me,
Looked up again and said tersely,
"Tomorrow is as dim as the night."

Back to my small cage room,
I eat my thoughts like food,
Regurgitating the futile venture
To know tomorrow, the future.
Today! Wasted like a leftover
Never to be revisited,
Now in this dark I can see
Clearly what they couldn't,
Tomorrow! Tomorrow is "today's action or inaction."

HORLAIDE © 2018