Voices

They come on gilded wings;
sweeping up joy and abundance.
The cards fall to the table.
Opposition stands hard against the altar.
The Tarot cards spread wildly.
Secret meanings hidden to be found.

Crowned by illusion
with a past of defeat, they demolish
hopes of dreams and love.
The tarot is not the opposition,
it's those uninvited few which intrude
the inner workings of the circle.

Circe, goddess of the moon,
deliver me from the evils of my heart.
Vengeance chasing, vengeance calling.
Follow me, follow me,
into the woods, the woods
where we shall be free.

Dark shadows of the passing autumn
call from secret fires within.
Black flames rise from their heart
the form of a castle illusion,
a dungeon of enrapturement.
Shall this be my freedom?

Lost in heart and thought of mind.
The breeze of stillness, the waking dream.
Sleep in space call the restless listeners.
Follow, follow us into the sky,
play with us inside the storm.
The lightning strikes as warning.

Danger, danger lurking in the shadows
rising, falling, dying breath.
Come, come, they say, lead while following.
I am the master of you, you the master of me.
Deep within ground the spirits call
we, we wait, rise to our throne of thorns.

Stripped before you, trodden and bare.
I see right through you, golden glass.... translucent.
Placid walls drip acid phrases.
Words fall careless from open mouths.
I am not one of you.

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