Already know the story of my palms
Life line, heart line and one for the head
I desperately need more information
Although the answers I somehow dread
Small hands telling a story
Pulsing with life, at least
Once delicate and pretty
If only they weren’t creased
Does the blue vein signify character
Or is a fortune waiting to be foretold?
If correctly interpreted it would parallel
Crossing my own palm with gold
The veins look like meandering roads
Connecting and leading where?
The left could be a prancing horse
Tempting me with a dare
The right hand appears more sedate
Resembling an after-the-rain mushroom
Both images explode with life
Replicas heady as the finest perfume
Healthy life is what I seek
Now that a bit of wisdom has surfaced
Things I’ve known forever, yet ignored
Have suddenly become repurposed
Yes, I will follow my intuition
That I will live until I die
And drink extra coffee tomorrow
Altering the shape of a predictive scry
© 2015 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
