I trace the lines of my hands: blue highways of intimate discourse. Bright backroads where the stars taste my heartbeat.
This long diagonal line - does it aim to Scorpius? Or is it the left-hand side of the path from soul to mind? It slices my lifeline, which traverses the full palm map.
Seven loves flow from the heart. Blue highways near my thumb suggest alternate tales.
This line intersecting the Scorpion line at the left could be the Archer. Let my aim be plain and true. My words the plumb line into meandering destinies.
A new line flows from the top of that line, falling off the right to where monsters may dwell. An alternate future parallels from the base of the life line.
I would reveal all my secrets, but they remain hidden even to me.
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