Did you see the fortune teller
Ask that little child for his palm
Did you read his lips in time
To grasp the message which he shared?
The palma crease drag their roots
To the cross on the dusty path
And this inspires the master of mysteries
To declare a brooding warfare
That with a cock and strong drink
Fallen angels may never be Judases.
But for the little one, the heart breathes agony
To throw tantrums against all predictions
That sound the alarm before twenty
Misfortune before thirty
Strange sicknesses before forty
Old age before fifty
And an exit before an entry.
Are not all the offspring of innate want
To cripple the crawling before they stand
To dwindle the innocent in double folds
And enrich empty vessels filled will emptiness?