My future’s been told by the rain,
quietly reading my palms
with droplets cold as tears.
Divining my fate,
falling fast and free
from somewhere up above,
mystically dripping down,
Pouring out like tears
Into the palms of my hands.

This, the singular moment in time:
my past, present, and future
all roiling and breaking on the same shore,
and like an island
I stand bearing witness to all that is,
the man I was, I am,
and I will become,
meeting here with palms upturned
and open to the rain.