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)