I dreamed before the dawn arrived,
Of souls that screamed yet none survived.
The stars were whispering through the gloom,
Their voices mourned the coming doom.

I told the crowd what death would bring,
They mocked the truth within my sting.
They danced beneath the blazing dome,
Their laughter died where lost souls roam.

Within my blood, I felt the tidal grave,
That surged to claim what none could save.
I cried and pleaded—none replied,
The darkened sea consumed their pride.

A woman wept, her child grew cold,
A vision carved in pain untold.
Her tears were pearls upon my chest,
Each prophecy denied me rest.

For what’s the gift of sight but pain?
To foretell the loss yet speak in vain,
To read the page before it bleeds,
To weep for hearts that fate precedes.

I begged the stars to cease their hymn,
To let the dreadful visions dim.
But their silence only mocked my fear,
And whispered fates I dared not hear.

They chained me in the village square,
For sorcery, for dark despair.
Yet still I saw through faith’s deceit,
The flame that rose to their defeat.

Now through the keyhole, night peers in,
It grins, recalling what has been.
To know the end, before one dies—
Is hell beneath prophetic eyes.