The Oracle



I used to beware of thoughts
that come in the night
she speaks to me through whisps of clouds
that wander where they wish
across my sky of thought
somewhere in time.

An oracle who knows the
heart and soul of a poet
swayed in moonlight’s dance
over the waters sublime.

Her unerring eyes see through
the guise I wear, painted as a smile
and, she threads the needle that
contains all the strands
of my naked healing.

She knows that sometimes
I am the fallen
yet, for all my sins
still wishes to see me rise.

She imparts her wisdom
then bids me leave to find my way
having shown me the last secret
is one held in spirit
as I quietly walk my path of
rainbow light.



© Daydreamer Too   *All rights reserved

Shared at 50th Poet’s Pantry-Poets United

Shared at One Shot Wednesday #week49

Shared at: Carry on Tuesday #108