Visiting Karma

We talk of disbelief and magic chants While I sip tea, drain cup, and ask for more. She pours, then moves to water mystic plants That tendril windowsill and moonlight floor. She sighs, be careful of the things you ask, For like as not they'll come to you, then whirls And gazes in my eyes, forsaking task, Deciphering my soul, as droplet swirls The mirrored table from forgotten glass. She cheshire-smiles and shrugs, it's all the same, Good fortune comes - and bad to any lass. Though none of you is mistress of the game. Her voice is silk, yet each word is a dart. When Karma speaks, I listen with my heart.