“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label Tarot. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tarot. Show all posts
Sunday, March 17, 2019
Draw out
It must have been
one of those crossroads
that Dante found too dark
to penetrate
and I find myself
sinking
to the depths
of Tarot,
whereby a spark may be
cast,
only one strike,
like sipping one toe into the
Inferno
and you know
I drew;
The Emporer, The Hermit, The Lovers,
The Devil
and Strength.
There is something
strait-forward about
a cross, a sword, empty cups,
perhaps
the pathway, and a Virgil,
that may say
directions,
like selections
when lain, like steps
a hand
is dealt and there lies
choice,
namely,
to forget
The Fool.
Artwork by Dante Gabriel Rossetti [Public domain].
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Half-dozen Mud cakes
Back to wood decks, quarter-size spiders, webs, moss and creatures stirring in the hollow nights Back to no side-walks and skirting into th...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
I have served between eight and twenty-five thousand meals for my family, I make coffee for them more than once per day, equatin...
-
Lies About Love by D.H. Lawrence (1885-1930) We are all liars, because the truth of yesterday becomes a lie tomorrow, wherea...