1
I shift my weight and mountains fall; dig down -
black canyons quake and take a sudden turn.
Reformed by pressure in the dark, I work
from faults as tiger's eye and peridot,
or heavy pig iron, raw and rough. A forge
and skillful hammer blows can fit my bones
to crown or plow, for each has worth -- it's use
that's elemental to the art of earth.

2
I close my eyes and oceans flood; dive deep -
a flock of rainbows bridge the land and sky.
Dissolved to cloud by setting sun, I mate
the moon till dawn distills our mystic kiss
and rains me down to pools of lucent sea.
A boatman drifts on changing tide, asleep
among his lobster traps. I salt his face,
scrub clean his craft, then wash him toward his dream.

3
I tap my foot and lightning cracks; breathe in -
infernos torch old scores to livid ash.
Enriched by microcosmic fuels, I play
blue jazz and atoms dance; turn up the burn,
quick neutrons jump in white-hot pas de deux.
I leap from sun to daylit hearth; a child
reads fortunes writ on coals, attention caught
by stars refrained in spark and emberglow.

4
I stretch my back and climates change; breathe out -
young spiders ride a gale around the globe.
At play on beams of heated gold, I lift
the wings of dragonflies and fledgling wrens,
teach bending to the limbs of sapling oaks.
A carver whittles seasoned wood; I glide
across her practiced hands, brush dust to ground,
spin chips in amber flurries underfoot.

5
I raise my hands and gardens bloom; stand up -
glad music spills from every living tongue.
The songs from cradles, dens, and nests: my love
expressed through instruments, my heartbeat drummed
by pigs and priests, cows and queens, gulls and kings.
At one with all, a balance struck, I am
the leaf that bathes in breeze, the sheltered chick,
the roaming fox, white pollen on the wings of bees.

The Hanged Man
Death
Temperance

The Devil
The Tower
The Star

The Moon
The Sun
Judgement

The World