by Robert Hayes
A young girl born with the unwanted gift of premonition.
| THE ORACLE
In prophecies name she came to be
Foretold by some she is the key
A Priestess vailed in virgin state
Her beauty is what sealed her fate
Incantations at her birth
Instilled in her a horrid curse
Apprenticed in the ancient ways
A slave to be for all her days.
In her sleep the visions come
She dreams of wars and battles won.
A servant of the kings good grace
By his side she finds her place
A noble amongst the honoured pawns
On her word he moves at dawn
A battlefield now weeps in red
For now the widows claim there dead
From afar she feels their pain
Her soul in two she prays in vain
She begs the gods and makes her plea
Take this curse and set me free
From the skies a voice replies
My darling child, please don't cry
I called your name, and gave you birth
To help the people of the earth.
Flee your king, and rest your mind
Seek the sages left behind
In wisdom's hand you'll find your way
As they teach you how to pray
Use your gift, for those in need
Foretell the crops, and where to seed
This life of yours is now your own
Amongst the village find your home
Rest now child, your dreams are yours
For you are the key to end all wars...