A sharp end between fingers, eye of the needle in the palm, eye traces a
path of darkness. Can’t change, what’s done is done.
It travels to and fro, following the one route chosen by its governing
hand from all the invisible choices, one route that connects start with
the end.

It leaves behind a trail that forms the pattern like the wing of a
dragonfly or a bark of an oak in a non existing sacred grove. You do not
have to see it to know how to remember it.