Look how much fire in this set of cards!
I have the feeling that the Lord of the Gates of Matter (the Devil) here is causing the Queen of Wands to be poorly aspected. I do not read reversals, because I don't like looking at upside down images, but I do believe all cards have a range of meaning. The Devil is not always "bad", and the Queen here is charismatic, dynamic, and passionate, and those are fantastic qualities, but they can also turn tumultuous at times. The Queen of Wands is the Queen I least associate myself with, but she probably does represent me today.
These cards tell me it would be a good day for me to speak humbly, act humbly, work actively to shed some of the bad habits that I know are holding me back. Doing so will be freeing to me.
These cards are from the Transparent Tarot by Emily Carding for Schiffer Books.
What is the obsession, this compulsion, this desire
ReplyDeleteThat drives me to commit these crimes that are so dire?
In my mind a genius, a fool, and a liar
A loser without luck, whos faults I sing amongst a choir
Of devils and saints who babble in my head
all night and day keeping me awake
Long must I sleep, sleep like the dead
Until I reclaim the night I forsake
Married to a portrait, the voice in my head
Talking with the pictures in the hall
A snake-eyed man who spins a tapestry from corpse thread
Stolen from the tophat with legs that crawl
In misery endowed most sincerely
The portrait of a damned john
Hanging from the cross upside down dearly
Beaten until the soldier got a hard baton
Licking his lips such a strange disease
Swallowing down his own flesh
Gulping in the silent unease
His throat cracking as he curses the blessed
Cursing under his breath in the burning breeze
Violating the sanctity with his eyes
Staring into abyssian emptyness, shes
toying with a stranger to holyness, unbaptized
Unmade in darkness, undone in death
The ballet of grey melancholy
Stealing away each and every breath
A lowly lord of demogogy.
I am the saint of sin
The face that stairs up from the deep black well
The abyss that stares, peeling back your skin
The smile that lurks in the depths of hell.
Beneath the stair case lay the guilt
Buried not three feet deep
Bursting from amongst the asphalt and tree roots
That whom sleeps the eternal sleep
I like your poem John
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