She is no leader, nor follower, no judge, nor jury.
No hope that consumes nor burns bright the integrity of wilting moral.
She is not lustful, nor prideful, nor holy.
No devoted congregation praising blindly amongst rotting archaic ruins of paper.
She pulls another card, seeking clarification to each previous: holding it in her callused hands as if it were a precious gem; something of value and respect.
She breathes in deep, closing her eyes in careful consideration, and slowly she utters... "What message dost thou have for me today?"