The Wheel of Fortune
The rocket of time pulls the wheel as it makes another round. The heavy wood crackles and pops as it continues to cycle, heavy with the weight of our fortunes. We rest on its edge, as our hopes, fears, and dreams dance precariously around its perimeter. With a sudden jerk of movement, we are pulled upwards. Stretching, reaching, growing till we reach the top in a riotous conclusion of ecstatic joy and fortuitous fortune. We stay but a moment. The scent of time carries on the wind and the inevitable decline casts a shadow of impermanence on our face.
And yes, our fears are answered with a large crack as the wheel starts and the movement continues. Down the wheel we go to crash in a crucible of tribulation. The weight of the wheel carves a trench deep into the earth and our hopes, once so true and tangible, get ground beneath the wheel into a dust. A ghost of our former joy escapes to carry in the wind.
All is not lost, however, for down in the darkness, our hope remains as a flicker of light. The flame slowly grows until, with sigh of relief, we hear that great crack again and begin to be pulled upwards. The despair is momentarily forgotten as we remember what we have ahead, what we have to look forward to. So again we reach high, forever upwards.
And so it goes, a Sisyphean cycle of triumphant success and morose depths. Yet we carry on knowing that even in those dark times, the wheel will turn and hope will eventually come within reach.
This is the first in a poetry series I'm working on about the Major Arcana. I would love to hear what you think, so feel free to leave a comment below.
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