My path is paved by the art of actors.
I stand as a lordling, gaze straight at the camera,
juggle new factors, daze crowds with dazzle ~
all polished skills, mastered with practice.

My hands are deft at fast games of physics.
I've crafted bronze golems, walked over oceans,
flown the abyss, learned cants that charm atoms ~
all bagatelles: rabbit-and-hat tricks.

Four tools lie ready on my showman's table:
gold cup of emotion, wand of creation,
sword of keen thought, earned coin of the able ~
all crafted things for this mage to use.

I planted the staff of the Fool. It bloomed
in a riot of roses and lilies. Like me, a ruse,
more and less than they seem.
Nothing is sure in the conjuror's room.

The Hanged Man
Death
Temperance

The Devil
The Tower
The Star

The Moon
The Sun
Judgement

The World