The moment is foreseeable
Situated in the future
A deferred interview
A red phone rings
A horn of scales is unhooked
This is Cassandra says a voice

You speak with Cassandra
Is the expected answer
In the mirror of simple souls
Shine several faces as poems
Shadows reveal countless lights
Which are complex contradict the gleam

Finally freed from darkness
She brings boundless [com]passion
Gurgling images of the future
Trigger indicate reveal
The syndrome of steel horses
Which disinherit our true nature

They pull everything in the negative
Dragging them tirelessly for miles and miles
They continue on the empty plains
The wheels of future the wheels of time
Councils of wisdom come [non]located
While floral buds

The one meter high grass on the
Point where the crossroads
Dowsing-wise split into
– As the route goes hand –

A future that pulls our past
One way or the other

At the end of both choices
Stands a red phone with scales
The horn is answering
Optionally the familiar tune
Of Cassandra who preaches about how
Times meet in a circle

About the Sun
How it rises

Again
Renewed