A seeker; practicing tasseography, seeing if overpriced leaves align asymmetrically, or criss-cross possessively, does that mean certain fate to you, too?
Sip by sip, steaming liquid kisses overripe lips, yet languid waters fail to fully brew; a sign of a stymied system, too much pressure getting lost in curved copper, once beautiful, now crimped tightly in overuse?
Did you find a rock crystal for scrying, haunting an answer beyond sinister’s laugh; fortune had blessed these steps for years, albeit no money, but alas, no fears; now her blank check comes written for zero sum; a game gone by chance, no one ever won.
What became of yesterdays coffee grounds; seeping deep into tomorrows red roses building to bloom; we drank the past, tossed it down, never questioning their impending beauty.
Wait within this garden, a menagerie of animal minds roaming hungrily, searching for that one drop left behind, the white hare in the moon.
dVerse is open for business, offering its own white hare in the moon. (in folklore white hare in the moon, symbolic making the elixir of immortality…think fountain of youth) Get your fill, travel about the joint, then post a link so we may know what your poem is all about. As for this one, written after reading a sidebar article from Lapham’s Quarterly regarding the future.