A New Day

Questions without answer

Spurn the chiromancer.

She has the living to pay

But the dead survive the day

To hold secrets she will not know

As their putrid flesh rots below.

Why must they leave torn and shattered hearts

To inevitably seek her arts?

Have they no decency in life

Or care about the remaining strive

That leaves her picking up scattered pieces

As the return for her efforts decreases?

What good are lies for comfort

When the hauntings won't slumber?

She has no answers to give

That won't leave them combative.

So, she toils day by day in the void

Trying to mend what the dead destroyed

Until one day she glimpses her own fate

Tattered and torn by the long deceased's hate.

Enough is enough, she says, ready to stir

Into existence something good, something pure.

Hel hath no fury is what they simply say

As nothing is done for disaster's ballet.

With wisdom to guide her, she sets off

To find the source and, if found, to doff

It's fabric from her plain of existence.

For years she perused the texts

To know the void's deepest depths,

Yet for all she had learned, its expanse grew.

A small swath of this field is all she knew.

So, she narrowed her scope to one issue

Hopefully then she could doff some tissue

And lighten the load of living's grief.

Perhaps that would provide some relief

To the downtrodden victims of the deceased.

She found methods to process and unpack

And form approaches to reduce attack.

But for the answers she had long sought,

Her efforts to prune pain were for naught.

Returning to her old methods tried and true,

She turned to the gods hoping for a breakthrough.

She spoke and pleaded for aid in her fate

But none answered, it was settled debate.

Her voice shrank and she began to turn away

Until one voice spoke that there will come the day

When she'll be satisfied with the unknown.

As for her fate, it had yet to be sown.

In her labors she had earned her place

To wear primordial goddess lace.

Fate was hers to rule with methods unclear.

She wondered then how she might learn to steer.

For it was the woeful fates she wished to ward off.

From the beginning of time it was time to doff

The fabric of pain from this existential plain.

As she readied herself for this newfound domain,

The world around her began to shift and blur.

She tried to remain as things began to stir

And the events of her journey faded

And old memories of those who aided

Surfaced slowly in her mind's eye

She woke with a shudder and sigh.

It was now time to begin the new day

And forget the nightmare without delay.