Tarot and the Serpent

 

The Serpent sneaked the cards

From God's pocket.

A tail flip tossed the cards

High into the air.

One card cleaved the sky

Letting out unbridled heat.

Another card dulled the wits

Of the power-wielders.

One hit the foundations

Of the Earth's core

And confused them.

Dams burst forth,

Fires engulfed the land.

One more flipped open

The lower Astral door.

A card severed the masks

Keeping the lies inviolable.

Deceit oozed out

Smearing the Chariot.

The Tower shuddered

Calling to the Sun and the Moon.

Until God's own Hand

Caught the spinning deck

Flying asunder

Stabilized the Wheel

Gagged the Serpent

And rolled him up

Into a Throne of Judgement.

Urged the Truth to grow forth

Offering shade

Of figs and olives

Blessed by the Land.

The shackles of irony

Dropped off the City of Peace,

And ever so slowly,

Daring to trust,

We suckled the honey

Of the flowers

On the Tree of Life.

 

Mending crushed hopes with gold

 

No soul ever asks

For trials and tribulations.

Not one man alive

Would seek to have

His heartstrings snapped,

Crawling out of one's skin

As it cracks and it peels.

No one would wish

To be re-cut as a puzzle,

To reassemble oneself, -

Pieces scattered around.

Yet, embracing the flaws

Mending dishes with gold

Is the art of re-writing

One's precious history,

Extrinsically valuable

To the Observer Above.

Kintsugi is ever-growing

In value and skill,

Appreciation is rising

For stories rebuilt.

The treasure of one's days

Could easily be lost,

In the haze of a hurry,

In confusion of chase.

So make sure you weave

Them tight in a scroll,

So not one drop of gold

Escapes unrecorded.

 

 

 

The trees of Jerusalem

 The world of Action
Denied hospitality
To the trees of Jerusalem.
The roots of gangly pines
Swallow their own tails
In the dry crunchy darkness.
A tightly coiled spring,
Nourished by the ringing air,
The ancient pine of the Prophets Street
A battle for Jerusalem witness,
Still shudders to remember
The Jordanian brigade's boots;
It bears the scars
Received from explosions.
Kissing the shadows of the prophets,
It sings ancient anthems
Its voice blending
With the sad murmur of rabbis
Who live rooted Above,
Confined in thick concrete  
In the stuffy lower worlds,
Pining for Redemption
Sprouting from the Root.