Sometimes images strike my eye quite loudly…
Such as this one did yesterday…
XI Strength ~ The Wild Unknown Tarot
I seemed to see such sadness in this creature’s eyes… this weary looking King of the Beasts…
How did that rose get into his mouth? I guess he was drawn in by its beauty and its scent…
But to pick it… and take it from where it dwells… is to kill it… and beauty and scent will soon fade and decay…
Yet he firmly clenches it between his teeth… Is he afraid to let go… afraid of what he thinks he’ll lose…
There is no colour to the rose…
The colour lies in the Sun that warms his back and there in the sign of infinity that marks his brow…
Why does he look outside of himself for beauty?
And that stem across his tongue… surely that is heavy with thorns that cause him pain…
What mastery is there in controlling self-inflicted pain…
Why carry that?
How easily to say no more…
No need to roar…
Just drop…
False treasure to the floor…
With gentle opening of a jaw…
The pure and blessed way 