Artherese

I’ve almost got my palms read today. Almost. For it’s better not knowing. But in truth? Being sad might affect the reading. 

Now though, I have to cure my curiosity. What if? Add that to the list of regrets. 

But what now? I’ll be like a tree. Falling leaves. Losing almost everything, but still redeeming itself and making space for something new. Beginnings. 

Perhaps the paths are not yet carved. Better yet, nothing’s set.  

(c) Artherese, 2024