Where the Threads Cross

Where the Threads Cross

In a hall with no ceiling, no floor,
I sit between the was and more.
I do not call, I do not chase,
But I know every name, every face.

You bring your hopes like trembling flame,
But leave behind the need for blame.

Where the threads cross, I remain,
In silence, stillness, light, and rain.
I do not touch, I do not bind—
I only see what lies behind.
One step back, one step through—
The truth was never hid from you.

The cards fall slow, the air grows thin,
The answers live beneath your skin.
You want the key, you fear the door—
But fate has been here long before.

The bones are cast, the wax has wept,
The stars remember what you’ve kept.

Where the threads cross, I remain,
Not in mercy, not in pain.
I do not twist, I do not turn—
I speak the fire when it burns.
Not to warn, and not to save—
But to echo what time gave.

Not every shadow means a fall,
Not every silence is a call.
The path is yours—walk or stay—
But know what whispers when you pray.

Where the threads cross, still I stand,
Dust and dream within my hand.
The hour turns, the echo flows—
The Diviner simply knows.
So ask your question, hold your breath—
And I will show you life… or death.