The Book of Thoth

A door ajar
A lid is raised
I feel the current infuse
The air I breathe, feel
Their grace weave in my
Thought like hands of ivy
Hands of steel - this box
Bound in silken cloths - this
Wooden casket carved with
Love contains such wisdom
And foreknowledge breathing
Freely from pictures and
Titles open and concealed paths
Laid in a sequence exact
Spiralling for those to
Follow who will - they
Tell me things these Knights and
Queens if I approach with
Deference, proclaiming through
A medium of silence they
Shower me with spangles with
Purple light and green with
Golden thought and white -
How they vibrate
How their incense curls inside
The heart - they are
Loud in my thought, they
Know my Fate's fear, they
Know what I am not.
The Book of The Scribe
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