A world remote, a life unknown,
Apart by choice, yet not alone.
She lives in darkness full of light,
She sees it all, the dark, the bright.

Her soul can hear what others dream,
And with her heart she’ll craft and scheme
Her offerings of answers sought,
Of ways that change, new paths to walk.

She is Cassandra, unbelieved,
Pandora, blessed with hope relieved,
Apollo’s daughter, gifts to bear,
Brigid’s friend with fiery prayer.

Though some may doubt, discard, disdain
Her gifts that fall like drops of rain,
Still others crave her talents rare
That give them hope, repel despair.

For souls who yearn for what is not,
The broken hearts life has forgot,
She’s more than just a secret shared,
A voice unstilled, strength newly dared.

To those who trust, to those who see,
The ones who dream of what might be,
She is a candle in the dark,
A glow of hope, a kindled spark.

She holds the keys, the doors unlock,
Time will rewind a turned-back clock,
Second chances, torn vows mended,
Hope restored and heartbreak ended.

Her visions fill them with belief,
Dispel their doubt and soothe their grief.
But they must hear her words, her voice,
And find the strength to make the choice.

While she tells tales of what might be,
Shows visions that they long to see,
The fates of dreams aren’t hers to know,
For only dreamers make them so.