The World Reversed

In a dream, I dream of milling shadows

I follow down corridors with my unturned tarots

I try to find, to reach, to know what's present

But they seem afar 'neath a flickering fluorescent

The Hanged Man's flipped and I throw the card

He floats to a floor, as his eyes regard

I want to seek and find; I want to hide and cower

With failing fortitude I lift and look... it is The Tower

I'm running in reveries to an absorbing umbra

Detached and distant from where I slumber

And now I see the shades of silhouettes all transforming

As the deck in hand radiates heat, to them it's calling

The Hanged Man's flipped and now Death's the card

It floats in flames, to fall and settle, half ash, half charred

And then, The World Reversed, by an open door

With the reality that was, now from a life before

'Twas a dream in a dream of milling shadows

Now I'm here with them and playing from packs of tarots

There's ambient light, a flickering fluorescence

And beyond The Tower, The Moon's a permanent presence