For the last three nights

Doing these things

That someday might be codified

Into Ritual

I set down the book

Turn out the light

Unfold my pillow

Thoughts and images tumble up

Revealing one word

“Bombs”

 

Thus is the nature of Prophecy and

Why most stand on street corners in other people’s clothes

Yelling at everyone, reaching no one.

 

How easy it would be

When shrapnel flies and people scream

To gloat and say “See? See, See!”

Catastrophe happens continuously

Job security

Defining what your death might mean

But this is cheating