The third eye weeps salt for the tragedy sown,
Where shadows of sorrow in Seattle have grown.
Three lives snuffed out near the needle’s bright crest,
While my heavy tail curls on a troubled, sad chest.
The whiskers have fallen still. The moon hides behind a cloud. Even the toy mouse rests untouched.
“I hear humans mourning after gun violence at Seattle Center takes three lives. The stars do not celebrate sorrow, and neither do I.
When tragedy strikes, many will search for simple answers, but the future is woven from countless choices made by countless hearts. I see candles flickering in the night, strangers embracing strangers, and communities gathering not because they wished to meet, but because they refuse to let grief stand alone.
The days ahead will bring difficult conversations. Some voices will call for change. Others will call for healing. The wisest will remember that compassion is not a limited resource—it grows each time it is shared.
I also see countless quiet acts that never make the headlines: neighbors checking on one another, first responders carrying burdens long after the sirens fade, families finding strength in one another, and ordinary people choosing kindness over fear.
The future cannot erase what has happened, but it can honor those who were lost by inspiring people to protect life, support one another, and build communities where hope has room to return.
Psychic Meow Meow lowers the crystal yarn ball and bows their head.
‘Even after the darkest night, the dawn does not arrive all at once. It comes one ray of light at a time. Be one of those rays.’
The prophecy ends not with a triumphant meow, but with a quiet purr for peace.
