Deja Vu

You come, smelling of roses,
And telling of a future,
That I'm not sure is mine.
Where you came from,
Flying on soft, white wings,
Is unknown to me,
But surely I have been there,
Once in a long ago past.
You were with me,
Telling me of now,
Though then, I did not know,
What was to befall before.
What vision are you
Than can see such sights,
And know me,
Before I know myself?
And who has shone you ways,
That I,
Have never travelled?
I wish I knew
From where you came.
I only know I will remember,
When you come again.