Alchemical Poetry Grace Under Water

Hands, pale and folded, remind me I was there before wings, upon a ladder, holding a cup, waving goodbye; Though I’ve no idea how or why. It is not easy to forget myself, worn as I am in this art of clothes, mostly I am cloud white and corduroy, a gliding vessel wedded to flight. I am the determination to transcend, to dip into the darkness from a safety of days; though once I fix things they tend to die. I seek a Tarot of assurances, to know that the difference between a swan and a man merely lies in twin aspects gone awry. by Peter Valentyne

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