I pull a card...if it doesn't speak to me...perhaps it was meant for you?
How to Read the Tarot
Begin by brewing a cup of tea,
a nervine, lemon balm or chamomile,
this is after all, your future.
A reading at the dark of the moon is best,
before the night creatures crawl
and bad humours fill the air.
Pick a circular deck, with a fairy-tale motif,
and no reversals.
Hold a question in your heart,
shuffle the cards and place them on the table.
Choose only two.
Like the ancient Israelites,
these are your seer stones, Urim and Thumimm,
black and white, yes or no.
Isn't that all you were asking?
This is an absolutely beautiful poem And I absolutely love getting a glimpse into how people's minds & inspiration work - who'd've thought you'd end up with a lovely piece about a bird from a picture of a restaurant
I love the title and every word of the poem. You paint a picture that is universal for those of us who have reached an age where we are comfortable in our skin.
Weaving my own wings
I wend my way home
not to a place
but a portal
of magickal birds
and a gift of air.
I undo the twist of rope
around my neck,
call in the nightingale's song.
Ravens spring from my tears,
prayer flags unfurl,
I am ready to fly.
12 lines
Pholarchos Tarot-- 7 of Wings---Weave your own wings, what are they made of?
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