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The Fool’s folly, voices three doth chide,
With jests and laughter, the Seer they deride.
His verses read, yet scorned as chance,
A dance of words, mere happenstance.
The stars align, yet fools make mirth,
Prophet’s doom now weighed in mirth.
The war of kings, the fire, the flood,
Dismissed as ink, not written in blood.
The hour wanes, the jesters tire,
Their tongues still sharp, their wits still dire.
Yet echoes linger, the past’s dark gaze,
Mere mockery now, but fate still plays.
Here are the links to the Stories in this episode:
The Man Who Saw Tomorrow (1981)
Nostradamus’ Life
Predicting the Rise of Hitler
Nostradamus: Predicting The Future
The Quatrains
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