Mystic Poem by grace mariner

You answered questions never asked.
How can this be?
Your eyes were blue, the color used to see dreams and futures unraveled.
Did you cast your runes to predict my thought?
Or was it the Tarot that guided you?
Your ability as a seer is in disputable.
I never asked the question because I never pondered the question.
Your protests that you could not abandon your little treasures were made to one who never did, never would, ask you to.
So whose question did you answer?
You are not a seer.
A false prophet yes.
Or an arrogant charlatan, believing his own piety and making another responsible for his own taboo, his own unholy thoughts
So you live your life and pretend you are what you present yourself to be,
all the while knowing the questions were always yours.