The Empress card rules strong tonight
in dusk and wheat fields,
the womb of motherhood.
Even moons hang low,
four edges to tell a fortune
of power not claimed
and wolves chained close
to broken hearts.
You stand apart, the King of Cups
with eyes that sting from seeing justice blind
but calm the barrenness
that comes with age
and tell me it is not my fate.
I will swing a crooked sword for you, my love
and not lose faith when empires fall.