THE TOWER.
Beaded curtain shimmers,
Crackles under hesitant touch.
Steady voice beckons you in,
incense clouding your nose.
You are still unsure if you will find veracity here.

THE KNIGHT OF CUPS.
Let your essence pour from her lips
and wonder if she can hear your thoughts.
She can pick apart all the tangled wires
within you, paint a breathtaking mural
with the colors swirling in your blood.

THE TEN OF SWORDS.
She reminds you all things must end,
that too much insight can become dangerous;
one might fold inwards,
crumple like thin paper.
She says,
“it is not necessary to know your entire self,
lest you spoil the ending too soon.”