First Written Meditation: 07 December, 2015.
Face down, the cards all look the same,
I wonder if their faces are blank
Until I can see under them.
Is my future foretold before the turn?
Does the act of watching change the outcome?
Will I be able to understand what is being told?
My Roma blood advises caution.
On the one hand, this is bread,
On the other, Fate and Destiny are but It’s Purview,
Who am I to peer past the Curtain?
With a prayer and but a pause
The faces are staring into mine,
And the spread speaks.
My mind quiets and I try to listen.
Very intently. Still praying.
To see but not in my eye’s green shade.
To hear, but not my own voice speaking.
To speak, but not with my words.
With Truth’s. Her voice is clear
As a bell,
It rings and pells and is lost sometimes
in the din of the city below it,
desperately trying to make herself heard,
but who listens for bells anymore?
For whom does the bell toll?
This is truth – an end shall come.