A Tarot Travelogue: An Introductory Course in the Art of Magic, and a Tour by Astral Projection Through the First Five Tarot Cards by Robin Wildt Hansen

Author:Robin Wildt Hansen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Published: 2015-02-27T06:00:00+00:00

IIII

The Emperor

The light emanating from the dress makes two circles, two large silver coins in my eyes. At first I don’t see Omcirce or anything else. But she stands beneath my gaze, looking at me with a weakness that draws a growl from my abdomen. Her skin plays like leaves in the light of the dress, which she is now wearing. Behind her, the protruding horns of rock have morphed into thrones in smooth stone. I clasp Omcirce’s upper arms and draw her to my chest. She leans against me, I put my arms around her and we melt together. The spear behind her is now leaning against the higher throne and is made of steel, gleaming in the sun. I reach out and grab the spear. Fire spreads from the handle through the veins of my arm, and I know the spear is mine.

I'm thrusting, roaring. Omcirce’s eyes are closed, her body laid out on silver, pinned down between my tree trunks, my weight on each side of her head, her arms encircled by my palms and the rock. I'm growling, thrusting, she liquefies beneath me, flows in all directions ready to quench the thirst of the soft earth. But I hold her fast, gather her, guide her stream. I thrust, steady her, thrust. I withdraw and sense her momentary unease. Then my hands are on her again. I feel her instant relaxation, her surrender. I turn her, pull her up and control her posture beneath me.

The colours of her dress converge below me. I stroke her back, evening out the colours as I continue to thrust, murmuring with my enjoyment of her. The rock around us lights up with a silver-coloured network reflecting rays of sun into my eyes.

I rise from her. She turns and sits and looks up at me. The network spreads out below my eyes, surrounding the rock’s surface running down its sides. But the network runs thicker on the side that bends towards the river. I follow this trail and descend.

The silver path ends at the foot of the rock where something gleams brighter than any other part of the network. As I descend, its shape reveals itself to me. It is a sword, its hilt and the lower part of the blade protruding from the base of the rock by the bank of the river. I'm standing before it. I look up. There's the mountain I jumped from, penetrating the clouds far above the rock.

I reach out and close my fingers round the hilt of the sword. I feel an invisible hand on my chest, holding me back. I look down. Blood streams from my hands, covering the hilt. But I will not let myself be stopped. Fire courses through the veins of my arms, growls rise from my abdomen, rubbing the inside of my throat. I pull harder at the hilt, but the rock resists me. I pull harder still. Fire, pain in my muscles, so exquisite, I keep pulling beyond the boundary of pain.

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