Prophecies: The Hanged Man

O Seer, in hands upturned now read:
that naught is thine, yet all for thee.
Which to the lock in thy chest is key--
of cards, the Twelve or Thirty Three?

What rest suspends thy grievance, Seer,
in branch and needle of these trees
shall be as much a scourge to thee
as capture to the starving free.

Count not thy sorrows, nor thy days,
let not thy heart the storm gale sway.
Unto thine Oathéd look, and pray;
thou shalt not fall. Nay, not this way.