Poetry of the Tarot: The Tower

The Tower

Without warning the walls collapse,
lightning strikes, flames burst forth
as the ego surrenders to Divine will,
the poet’s life falls down in tragedy.
Behold the sudden moment of truth,
when the immortal soul strikes back,
creating demolition and devastation,
shaking the foundations with wrath!

Bringing down the house is painful,
yet destruction brings forth creation
as we liberate ourselves from prison.
When destroyed we meet only truth
as we hit rock bottom and revitalise,
begin again, no way out but through.
She who bears the phoenix’s destiny.
He who plummets to his own death.

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Poetry of the Tarot: The Devil

The Devil

The poet wrestles the lusty old goat,
not a creature living outside herself,
but the evil, perverted spirit within.
Chained to this all-father archetype
she chooses money over happiness,
where cash buys her sex and power.
Where her wild, hedonistic appetite
eats up the world, yet loses the soul.

It’s never too late to regain freedom
for the heart hungers to be released.
Let us remedy our spiritual injuries
the way we nurse physical wounds.
Meditate on this card until you feel
compassion flow within your being.
He who thrashes in chains of desire.
He who wants to break all the rules.

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Poetry of the Tarot: Temperance


With one foot stood in each world,
in each word, the poet gains poise.
For as both golden chalices decant
opposing spirits, a third is created.
This divine task cannot be hurried
until temperance, an angel of time,
opens wide the soul’s celestial eye,
to midwife the birth of wholeness.

As spirit descends into our matter,
here on earth we witness a heaven
that heals olden wounds with love.
In between realms we grow gentle,
learn how to marry, come together,
slow down and remember the soul.
He who favours Aphrodite’s ways.
She who follows Hermes’ message.

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Poetry of the Tarot: Death


After thirteen cycles of the moon,
the enigmatic horseman rides in.
Death, life’s constant companion,
arrives in fetching black armour,
displaying the mystic white rose.
Remaining absolutely victorious,
insensitive to age, race or gender,
he harvests the souls of the dead.

As change rearranges our psyche,
the ego is to be swallowed whole.
No longer will it control our lives
by creating deep pain and misery,
for as the sun of perpetuity rises,
we awaken to symbolic intuition.
He who renews life to regenerate.
He who faces death several times.

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