So many people lost along so many trails,
and all of them disorganized; it tears my heart
to watch their halting progress on their lonely quests.

The ancients who went hunting God have marked His home.
Recorded in this gilded book, I have their maps;
I've trapped the laws that tumbled from their knowing lips.

I've built a house where mystery has dropped its mask.
No longer must you ask in vain; here God prevails:
I've carved His thoughts quite clearly on the holy stone.

Power moves throughout this place, in silk and flame,
in many voices joined in song, in filtered light
stained gold by glass, in shadows cast by painted saints.

Beyond these sturdy, sacred walls lies wilderness
and many fools have fallen there. Come, my children,
search no more; God is bound and waiting for your prayers.
 

The Hanged Man
Death
Temperance

The Devil
The Tower
The Star

The Moon
The Sun
Judgement

The World