I’m building a tower of cards.
Layer after layer, resting on those below.
Supporting those above.
Surfaces shimmering with lambent light.
At the base is Temperance, wings outstretched as she stands,
one foot in water and one on land.
In the middle is the Magician, creating at his altar.
And at the top is the World: naked, and watched.
Why build so high? they ask.
Because, I say, I want to reach the Star.
What if one of these cards is creased? What if it’s frail?
Yes, Towers sometimes fall, I say.
But I think,
I’ve built this,
This is a drabble that accidentally poemed. But it is still exactly 100 words long. And it RHYMES. Well, in places. Please don’t give me a lecture on tarot meanings 😉