My sin,
to miss the mark
in life.
as above, so below.
I effect, my own
final outcome.
living daily
in a tomb
self made
needing
the cup
to renew,
to refresh,
but
only attacking
my problems
with
a sword of air,
thinking it sharp
a deceit,
a manipulation,
false words,
promises
that never come.
pretty pink
lips
to needy ears.
a false manifestation
of words unspoken,
merely hoped for
in denial of truth.
The magician
although powerful
influences with
misdirection.
I seek the earth
below my feet
pentacles of sand
dissolve
with every step.
I discover
I cannot walk
only fall.
A quest
for the truth
limping through
life
in hopes of
finding fire,
the wand breaks
beneath the strain.
laden with
unfulfilled
plans
desires
dreams
her broken oath
to love
The magician lies.