This is very, very, old. I wrote this in the 1990s. First in the series of what will now be a string of Major Arcana poems


The Fool’s Song

You ask that nothing speaks,
For Nothing commands all.
Very well… I will speak
For where foolish thoughts do crawl

The dawn speaks of me,
And the moonlight’s eyes
The prancing silent stars
do name me in their cries

I glisten in your laughter,
I hovered at your birth
Weaving lives without a pattern,
I fueled bright burning earth

The drop that swells to ocean,
The spark that yearns for fire
These are the songs I live in,
When the creator’s hands have tired.

My road you spill before me,
With twists and stones which trip,
But danger pulls me forward,
And on your clutches I will skip.

Though my little dog yelps warnings,
And gnaws to stop my feet
His wisdom will not bar me,
From becoming fortune’s meat

My promises I’ve wrapped in purple,
Slung gently on my back-
The ride with hopes and question marks,
In a jolly, weary, sack.

So paints the artist zero,
The no one of this crowd,
‘tis I who kneads with laughter,
The more to bake the proud:

“You!
Silent, lazy lot,
Laugh little at this knave,
For journeys long and rough

Do make the soldier brave-

 

And though I dance in motley,

And stumble for your pleasure

Learn from me- if no one else-

My route shall be your leisure”

 


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