Ask the runes —
and ask the stars —
was this a lost cause from the start?
was there ever a chance to win?
was there ever a risk of failure
less than of starting again?
I ask the runes–
I count the cost–
is there regaining what was lost?
was it ever growing there?
did the leaves ever spring green
upon the branches in the air?
or was it always just a castle
carved of shadows cast in air
a dream of smoke and miraged mirrors
a hope of a future where you’d care
and so I ask the crystal ball
and the tea leaves and the glass
I ask the fire and the cinders
for permission to give up at last.