tarot cards

we thought fate was our plaything as if we can pass our hands over it like a lit candle. your cards have a story to tell, no need, it's already written all over my face. the shadows around us loomed life-like in the dark. the golden light from the lamp are like nets trying to catch our after-image. sleepiness of a dream, eludes the insomniac. it's simple really, we only want to be understood. it's the first prerequisite if love will take place. odd picture cards, odd fortune teller, oracle with feminine softness, and Achillean determination, this is where our gods sleep. alone in a field of cards.