The Bard says decidedly
looking at his reflection in the mirror
"No longer will I be hungry
and no longer will I be cold"
He resolves to visit the Gypsy fortune teller
camped just out of town, down the road, and see what she conjures up. He dons a cape to soften the winter chill and takes with
him some silver coins which will cover the price of a mystic reading. She takes out her crystal ball from a velvet pouch and waves her a
hands over it, incanting.
She begins to see into the future.
The Bard thinks to himself:
"Is this going to be something
that I should take lightly
or will she reveal the future unfolding mightily."
In the clear crystal they view the following scene:
He's walking down a dark corridor that is lit by
torches, like in a state of dream.
The firelight is stained with magic, He sees himself
carrying a book that he has written,
weighing heavy.
The subject appears to be about a woman,
his lover whose name is Veronica. A name
that stems from Ancient Greece, meaning a true image and one
who stands out among the many.
In truth, she gives blood and substance
to this beautiful name.
Veronica is a sensual woman.
Indeed a beauty.
Her eyes are the color of emeralds that
sparkle when she laughs heartily.
Her smile is a star glimpse, whose light
crosses the heavens on a clear path, and invites you
to share her secrets.
Veronica works part-time at
a French Bistro as a waitress, in service three nights in a row
every Tuesday, Wednesday,and Thursday.
She studies the art of psychology by day at a
university in the northern shire.
Her long black hair graces and plays on her shoulders.
Veronica's figure is that of a maiden.
She wears a dress of crocheted
lace and flaxen linen in a soft cream color so shaded.
Her smooth legs are tanned and easily absorb the light,
and the night.
Sleeping next to her in the evenings
is alchemy providing sustenance, like an injection of oxygen for the coming day.
The Bard has many stories and poems about Veronica
collected in his head.
These words and manuscripts are transmitted
and channeled to pen and paper in a
non linear fashion.
They take shapes and colors as if
all on their own, and in a singular pace.
Will they be married in early summer in a royal
green park within a circle of oaks?
The answer must wait as the crystal ball now
turns cloudy and dark. The fortune teller fixes
her gaze and says,
"Come back next week Bard,
at the same hour
if it is in my power, illumination will come
and the crystal will again speak
what is true "

until next time - the end