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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2265981
A piece for a competition
It begins … or so it would seem,
Somewhere between reality and dream.
Unknown faces before her eyes,
Distorted images, muffled cries

Was it true? Could it really be?
Did she hold the lock, hold the key?
Had she inherited the family curse?
Or was it something much much worse?

She’d long heard the stories told,
Of sacred seers and gifts of old.
Of prophetic powers of timeless sight,
Holding balance between wrong and right.

Drowning in a torrent of faces,
She imaged rainbows in their places.
She closed her eyes and drifted away,
Drowning out the faces and all they wanted to say.

Cradled gently in sleep’s embrace,
Her powers grew, as did her grace.
Upon awaking within her dream,
She knew no fear, no need to scream.

And so, it begins … our seer's story,

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