The Empress III

Upon her crown of thorns she lies desolate
to no surprise of the Jesters rightful wrongs
among withheld rights and so she eagerly fights
a warrior within; untouched by knife from foe or Kin
royal still in her faults and in her sins as the Seven
jewels upon her skin send glows upon the ailing winds
befriending the Nile as it murmurs her name; a sad song
of Victory she has mastered for too long and as it is said to be
her nerves are severed when the King calls all of the lands,
ignites a single match in hand and strikes a rhythmic Key
signaling the free souls to be free from the hands of tyranny
sand to seven seas they’ve clearly seen the Empress in her majesty
bringing Kingdoms to their knees, spinning sorcery in midnight breeze
left last to abide she now sees, winged-souls flightless in uncertainty
tainted by her amnesty on the flow of gentries and so tricked with ease
alone in the Corridors she then smiles relentlessly
the Mother of the fateful, living–
knowing All, she’s unforgiving
and the stained memory of a merciful past
is devoured by shadows in moments that never last
at the altar, now unmasked, the Empress weaves
one final cast; deceived once more by methodical task
she retracts, retraces and tends to her steps
drawing one single card, The Fool lies neglect
sighing at her hand with a graveness he detects
dissecting the Mistresses deck, she calls on the Spirits
with all due respect, asking for Six and receiving a Seven
one four of Hearts and the Empress ends with eleven
luminescent Goddess of Mars, how she perfects her web
to unveil The Star, birthing a Countenance near to far
from suite of spade to the prophetic date; the
Mystic reveals linear lines of our fate though
no time has passed, not yet a second too late
together we redeem to further recreate
energy pooled, blood sacrifice displaced
mesmerized by sincere lack of grace
within figments of Illusory states the
Dynasty flourishes upon Open Space
cultivating freely a once roped-down race
given to the Gods for beauty and praise

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