X of Pentacles

An old man
sitting in the shade by the Great Gate
reflecting on the Tree of Life.

His wife is dead. These dogs?
He hardly knows them. Though he knew
their great-great- (great-great-?) grandsire,
remembers him even as a pup.

And those two standing there?
That’s not his daughter. (His daughter, too,
is dead.) That’s his granddaughter.
And his great grandson.

The Tree of Life. The ten
Sefiroth. What goes up
must come down, they say.

And so it must. But more importantly,
what comes down must one day go
back up. One day soon.

Queen of Pentacles

Holy to some,
harlot to others;
revered by poets,
reviled by mothers.

You have your God-given talents
and attributes. She has hers.
Do not mock or belittle them.
She does not mock yours.
What men will pay, and pay well, for
is not to be mocked or belittled,
especially when the rent must be paid,
the wolf kept from the door.

Close the poets.
Hang up on your mothers.
Mammon is lord of this world
and no doubt all others.