TarotsmithTarotsmithdivination

Author: Ash

The Herd

Often I look upon your faces and think that Death would be a mercy. In your cow-like eyes, I swear I see stupidity stretch in infinity and verily I say to you, as much as I hate you, I feel pity for you as well. Knowledge offered is taken for the gospel truth, when lies mixed with truth swirl together like honey in water yet I see you drink it all in, the elixir of corruption. It is a fine thread that separates the two and in your desperate need for affirmation, you huddle together like cows in a pen, each pressing the other for warmth. In the ever growing need to escape loneliness, you would discard the truth for lies if you thought it would purchase a moment empty of silence, for you fear it more than you fear Death. And if the herd were to take the thread and weave a rope to hang themselves with, would you do the same for the sake of belonging? Here is the rope, here are the lies, do with it what you will for your need is both your blessing and your bane. In silence lies a truth purer than the discordant chatter of your mindless talk. In my head, I see you hanging from the ropes made up of your own lies. The beast was here all...

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Prophet of Fools

I cannot help but see shadows where the light falls. Within the illusion of duality, I find that beauty is incomplete without a flaw to complete its perfection. Would the same be said of our lives; that each tear is a diamond placed upon the crown; that all things that bring grief, pain and sorrow are merely etchings upon the soul on an eternal journey home. On an endless quest to seek answers that remain forever elusive, would a fool open pandora’s box if she thought it held all the answers neatly packaged in a capsule? And if they were kept locked deep in some chamber within her soul waiting to be retrieved; would the key to the soul unleash insanity that is bound by conformity? The fool is not insane, but a genius interrupted by a tune playing in discordance with the song of the universe. “Come, let me help you look beyond reality so that you may see all that is dead and dying around you,” said the Prophet of Fools, “for though you have sight you are blinded by illusions of what your hands and mine have wrought. The beast was here all...

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Prophet of Justice

There is liberation in dementia, a respite from boredom that plagues the witty mind. It is an escape from the mindless chatter of the blind and the faithless; the ignorant and the incapacitated; the hopelessly malicious and the bitterly spiteful. The cackling laughter of the hag WILL be silenced with the edge of a sword and heads WILL roll…. because in this world, I can ensure it. In this world, I can get away with it…. And this is the slaying of cowards and hypocrites, of back-stabbers and psychic vampires. I wish to hunt the witch-hunters and strip away their facade; I wish to poison the charlatans and bleed out their lies. Prophet of the Rose, I bid you… Arise… Ash The beast was here all...

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The Prophets

Once I told a friend, who carries so much sorrow in his soul, that we are like poets speaking a dead language; trying in vain to sound coherent to people who could never understand. Once I heard a friend speak of 5 roses; one of each of his loved ones gone from his life; and I thought I heard him call them “Prophets of the Rose” in a language that was not my own but that was in my mind; he never called them that; I heard it in my head. Once I saw cruelty hidden in a smile; one of those lessons that echo forever in the soul; how beauty and ugliness are two faces to the same coin anyway its turned; but beauty is what I chose to see and I turned blind to ugliness. Then one night she came to me, Justice…. The first of the Prophets to arrive at my banquet meant for the demented. It takes a bit of insanity to open up the flood-gates to our inner hell; and in another place wearing some other skin it’s quite alright to let the beast run free. I shall give ugliness a face and I shall clothe it in beauty, so that you will see what you want to see and turn blind to the ugliness I wish to show. The Prophets are coming… In...

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