The Crone

withered by life
yet vibrant with wisdom
lofty experience and mundane days
all have value
each piece belonging to the puzzle
each puzzle belonging to the world
each world within her fragile grasp

The Fool

couched in humor
he bends your ear
revelations no other could make
for behind his laugh
the click of thoughts
sliding into the working puzzle
his smiling face a mirror
reflection of the is and could be

The Hero

stalwart and true
such a narrow identity
patterned in Hercules' allegory
mortally unreachable
for more humanly real
sacrifice and fortitude
standing in the hurricane path
life spun on axis
risk spinning forever out
still just two feet on the ground
watching the storm come in

The Hermit

in shadowed corner
behind bolted door
he bends his eyes
a search forever inward
fencing Socrates with his wit
conceived not confined
guarded dilligently against intrusion
of thought or world
traversing the landscape within

The Maiden

of innocence and light
skipping by way of travel
for youth knows not life's gravity
only joy and laughter
she carries no secrets, tells no lies
deception searches her out
yet can not sink its teeth
into soft peach flesh
instead retreating in fear
from faith's expanse
blanketing her against the darkness