A young man stands still in the Soothsayer’s shack

“It is not strength, but patience you lack” ,

the seer says beneath a tattered hood

in a drafty cabin to the north of the wood

The knight huffs and turns upon his heel

but stops at the sound of a wheel’s dying squeal

A gentle voice gives thanks for a safe night passage

the crone asks the knight if he’s heard the old adage

regarding the actions of wise men and fools

of the ways in which our hearts rule

Before he can give the seer reply

the form of a maiden catches his eye

She opens her mouth but finds words she lacks

The knight then says “aye, this be the soothsayer’s shack”

He watches as she passes through the door frame

and from the old woman learns her name

But before he can ask of midnight passage

and her thoughts on a certain old adage

The seer’s eyes blacken and roll

her body contorts as the spirits take hold

The oracle speaks:

“I see a fighter, valiant and true,

a kind leader betrayed by two

but as the sun sets, so it shall rise

and there is power in knowing their lies

But for now, you must wait,

trust blindly in fate,

The pale rider stands by

with his discerning eye

Mind the cups that you pour,

and how the birds soar

With your people make good,

learn the ways of the wood

Heed the words of the Fool,

his irreverence for rule

for the Bard will sing tales

of how the wicked shall fail

You will bathe upon the hill

find your cups to be refilled

Two lovers will sit under the sun and the moon

Lovers they shall stay until they are entombed”

 

Color returns to the oracle’s eyes

Her body releases and she lets out a sigh

Go children, she says, there is much to be done

and as I have spoken, you must be the ones

The seer collapses onto the bedroll

in her shack

Go, she says, you cannot turn back