When

"Know when to lift your eyes and when to look closely, to scrutinize."

Prediction is in the bone.
Go back fast, fast as you can,
Quick little spider on thread,
Spinning down the latest silk

Route to the future, and stop
Only when you get to when
Wen wasn't yet quite an art
Branching from one stem, nor love

The basest of another,
Cognate with delusion, when
Oxen shoulders and turtles'
Under-boxes harvested,

Segmented, scratched, and dated
Were heated, cracked, consulted,
And reinterpreted. What
Were they asking bones back then?

A good day for childbearing,
A bad day for invasions,
Eclipses as good omens,
Comets bad tidings for kings,

Everything you'd want to know
Tomorrow, when tomorrow
Was three thousand years ago.
When do you want to know, then?