You see the candle light catching in the hazel of my cornea, my pupils and iris seemingly breathing, like a heart slow-beating, they dilate and constrict, seemingly in synchronicity with the measure of your own.
In my hands the upturned card is revealed. One of the Major Arcana, descended from Latin and meaning “big secret” dealing with the human condition. Just 1 of 22 possible trump cards representing the joys and sorrows every man and woman can experience in a single lifetime.
The human drama illustrated in 22 cards, intermixed within a deck of 78. You wonder, which of so many possibilities has my touch chosen.
Our eyes look down into the upturned palms of my hands, reading the revealed details of the mystery image. The Empress, the archetypal Earth Mother, the Anima, the Feminine Principle, Demeter, Freyja, the Goddess of Fertility. Ruled by Venus, the planet of love, creativity, fertility, art, harmony, luxury, beauty and grace.
The light in our eyes, seemingly hand in hand, our gaze woven into a tapestry of trust, delicately documenting the details and features of this intricately illustrated card.
The Empress herself, a full-figured woman with rich brunette hair and a peaceful, calm aura all about her. On her head she wears a crown of stars, showing her connection with the mystical realm of angels and fairies.
She’s dressed in a patterned robe of pomegranates, symbolic of fertility and is seated upon a luxurious array of cushions, flowing regal velvets with the symbol of Venus emblazoned upon them.
She’s surrounded by a beautiful, lush forest with a stream running through it, demonstrating her deep emotional connection with Mother Earth and life.
She draws her sense of peace from the trees and the water and is rejuvenated by the energy of nature. In the foreground, golden wheat springs from the ground, reflecting abundance from a recent harvest.
~ ii ~
After a lovely day visiting Leeds and exploring the countless clothing shops, you confess if you had a fistful of dollars you’d not be able to walk with all the bags of shopping you’d treat yourself to.
In your bedroom you’re rearranging your wardrobe. You slip into a pair of super sexy green and cream silky lace knickers, a gift from a very secret Santa. The soft texture of these knickers strokes over the smooth skin of your long legs, as you elegantly pull them home.
Satisfied with the sexy cling of their intimate fit, you savor some secret words shared in a recent letter. A confession. Knowing I’ve held these same knickers in my hands as I’d perused the many boutique lingerie stores looking for little intimate things to spoil you with.
You remember my writing. My pictures. Knowing where these knickers have been. How I’d unwrapped them at home and held them to my cheek and lips. Inhaling their scent, recalling the scent of your love. Pressing them to my lips and kissing them, imaging how tender they’ll feel against your soft skin.