CAN THINGS BE TOLD
What is the future, can it be foretold?
By the past, or the ways we hold,
We peer ahead through a hazy view,
Eyes on the skies, for signs anew –
Watching clouds, birds on wing,
Seeking answers they may bring.
A name, a thought, hidden in air,
Can divination lay truth bare?
Heaven, hell, or universe wide,
Can secrets truly be spied?
There’ve been tellers of fate, it’s true –
Tarot cards and palms to view.
Some with crystal balls in hand,
Trying to see what time has planned.
Yet no one’s grasped with certainty
The fate that’s written for you or me.
Can things be revealed? Who can say,
In the ways we act, the roles we play?
We dabble in signs, we look for a clue –
Fortune cookies, bones, and dice too.
Axes and arrows with messages spun,
Heads or tails when decisions must come.
Flipping through books for the first verse we see,
Searching for hints in life’s mystery.
Can fate be decided by a simple turn,
Or is it in our hearts that we truly learn?
Man must sense danger, a knowing within,
As animals feel where life will begin.
Elephants travel to sacred ground,
To rest in peace where solace is found.
Aware of the end before it’s near,
They lay down with no fear.
Can this wisdom be ours to disclose,
As nature’s creatures seem to know?
A Zen master, calm and wise,
Foresees his end beneath the skies.
Counting the days ‘til cherry blooms fall,
As if he knew when fate would call.
Through dreams and signs, his journey’s known,
Can our future be shown?
A grandfather, seasoned, comes home to rest,
With a kiss and hug, wife feels it’s the best.
Unfinished papers neatly arranged,
Lays down, as if preordained.
A final smile, a peaceful sigh,
Can such things be recognized before goodbye?
A father, weakened through pandemic’s strife,
Spends his days contemplating life.
One bright morning, sharp and clear,
He asks for food, a bath, with cheer.
In clarity, he speaks his fate:
“I’m going to die today,” no longer late.
With God, his journey had begun,
Can such things be felt before they’re done?
What do we know of life’s last breath,
Of the mysteries of life, of death?
A fleeting whisper, soft and low,
Of where we came, or where we go.
The veil is thin, yet so unknown,
As souls take flight, no longer alone.
In every ending, there’s a start,
A lingering presence in the heart.
Though we may never truly see,
The path beyond, where spirits flee,
We trust in love, the ties that bind,
In life, in death, a peace we’ll find.