She holds the delicate crystal
tomorrow in her sights
or just a snippet of now?
Softly she speaks the words needed
the poets pen flowing like a river of mercury
shining and smooth
Red dress moves about as she ponders
to tell all or none at all
lest the heart become downcast
of a future it so desired,
she speaks the truth
to the open ears and minds
of those she holds dear,
crystal ball moving within
spiraling through both time and space,
closing her eyes she hums her mantra
as the sun majestically appears
through the darkened clouds,
the truth will move forward
as it is prone to do
knowing no other path
than the one less taken.
Thoughts on muses and fine art and all things magical.
“the crystal ball” oil on canvas John William Waterhouse 1902 in the public domain.