THE ORICALE

A young girl born with the unwanted gift of premonition.

THE ORICALE

In prophecies name she came to be
Foretold by some she is the key
A Priestess veiled in virgin state
Her beauty is what sealed to her fate

Incantations at her birth
Instilled in her a horrid curse
Apprentice to the ancient ways
A slave she'll be for all her days

In her sleep the visions come
She dreams of wars and battles won.
Nestled in the kings embrace
By his side she finds her place

A Noble amongst the honored pawns
On her word he moves at dawn
A battlefield now weeps in red
As the widows claim there dead

From afar she feels their pain
Her soul in two she prayes 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 wisdoms hand you kneel and pray
As they teach you how to find your way.

Use your gift, for thoes in need
Fortell the crops, and where to seed
This life of yours is now your own
Amongst the village you find a home

Rest now child, your dreams are yours
For you are the key to end all wars.