Forty days and five years ago, you said dunsinane would never come to Birnam
and a good woman born of a good family would live the life I wanted.
you tried to save me from my fate with tragic truth.
like a wild-eyed prophet eating honey and locusts, you tried to give me five years of life before I forsook your sooth
I rejected your doom, living with hope for 1800 days.
I believe you now.
that’s the trouble with prophecy—it doesn’t help to know your fate. whether you try to change it or accept it, you’re left without a life to live. Without love. Without hope.
and Tiresias is left Knowing he was right. But alone.
what good can Sight do when blind fools won’t listen.