ORACLE
2020-11-01

***

a hand reaches out
through the sands of time
and you know not how
or even a why

but some long-unsettled
beast prowls in your chest
and you take the hand wary
at its fervent behest

and it pulls you through Void
metaclysma, Abyss
a sun-sunken world
veiled by delicate mist

there on the cliffs
Kidasuna stands
and asks you to hold out
your scar-laden hands

a book with torn pages
and sentences severed
paper edges curling from
exposure to harsh weather

who was I before the pangs
of my malformed heart?
who was I before the world
deigned to tear me apart?

the future is hazy
like our surroundings
and she cannot discern
what lies ahead.

***

CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander