This is the first of a collection of poems that I am writing, called
'The Tarot'. Each will be dubbed as one of said cards, and loosely
themed around each.

~*The Hermit*~

To feel the shade sink in my bones
And permeate my sun-struck heart
With balm of windy, whispered tones
Drowning out the worthless convert.
The wind plays in the tree above
A shower golden swirls down
As branches shed their flaming love,
And the land puts on her evening gown.

Putting aside my earthly vice
I bite my tongue on my latest lie
And by some spiritual device,
I find my eyes drawn to the sky.
Is Heaven truly all aglow
With flower'd hues and light of spirit?
If, by chance, I die and go,
Will I afford the chance to feel it?

Or, as on earth, will I be numb
To all the angels and their song?
Will I stare at Heaven, dumb,
Then lift my stone and travel on?

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Valnuary, in the year 447 AF.