The creature that judges
Sifts through the cards
As if there is weight
In each meaning,
On a quest to discard
The darker leanings
Trapped inside white
And black.
The shadow's a gift
As it is overcome.
The light is a whole,
Inaccessible.
Each symbol and shade
Carries a fate
Strict as the law
Of a butterfly.
So the work of discernment
Turns down the blinds
To a desirable setting,
The bright "Who am I?"
In finer gradations,
Until recognized
Like the future in a dark
Probable sea.
The hand that will win,
The game that can be won,
From conclusions that need
To be drawn—
So to speak of the veil
When one speaks of the wall.
There's no boundary at all
But a card.
