Forbade facts,

Mere facades of truth that seethes,

Eyes of Gods.

May one know what the future has sold,

Immortality, many believe,

No satisfaction without death,

Hiring towards thee,

Yet how may we,

mere humans, discern that they are no frauds.

We are not Gods,

We cannot balance odds.

Truth foretold,

Future foreseen.

We may be keen on what lies,

Ahead of a path of mystery.

Lean towards ensuing of glory,

Neglect the face,

Aggression,

Fury.

Dejected,

Who knows what beyond the foggy glass can be.

The prescience of one,

The conscience of none.

The need to climb, the thirst for wine,

Bitter as knowledge may be divine.

"How to tell the future is fine,"

.