The habit of believing in our own limitation
Makes for a tight and practiced fit as we draw
The caravan tent from packs against a
Desert’s moonlit storm, and as we hammer
Down the corners of apparent protection
Then we must fight against expectations
As well because there is nothing we can’t
Leave hidden in sacks and fear drives us
To hang privately upon what we hold dear
Under the vast night sky and we help others
Forget the palettes of rich carpets that
We will set ourselves upon tomorrow
When truths have settled down between
The rhythm of tea and hookahs and sales.
copyright © 2012 Amanda Morris Johnson
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Long ago and far away a textile
Road changed the world, extending
Through dozens of cultures and
Connecting them inextricably to this
Day. Here a foundation for the modern world,
Wrapped in silk, it traded philosophies,
Beliefs and even plagues of driven
Death, as merchants and artists
Made their way upon those stones. In truth
Few traveled its course from end to end.
The point of its genius, of its design,
Expresses in a world ready to be
Woven together in a complex pattern
Fulfilling function and form perfectly.
copyright © 2012 Amanda Morris Johnson
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Living at the edge of potential, a
Swath of clean, white cloth wraps
Two lovers together establishing the
Connection that is no longer obvious.
Otherwise, separated by the manifest
World into independence that hasn’t
Entirely materialized yet, these two
See their own worlds and only live by
The assumption that they share it.
Constantly surprised by the limitation of
Identity, they seek establishment of
Other self-made boundaries, uniforms and
Knot-tying to create dominion over
A world filled with acceptable flags.
copyright (c) Amanda Morris Johnson
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When I recognize the gift the spider gives
As she walks on air, teaching me many valuable
Lessons like how to make a robe of gossamer gold
And hang a tale on a tree with jagged
Angles that slow down the universe to paying
Attention to its spinning from her center.
This threading together, observed for eons,
Is more important than my fear of the way She
Moves and the way She sees me with her eights.
If I draw back from her, too, then I fail to
Notice her fine fur and courage of her size.
Gifts and fear don’t go together well, and so
I concentrate on her gifts and wonder at the
Reach of the dewy lace divine that I might give.
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Just when I think I’ve learned it all, there
Begins a new cabeceo, a flirtation from the
Universe to dance again. Changed, I feel free
As Fools will do. Everything in realignment
With my true will, I am inclined to take
A victory tango around the ballroom.
The twinkling lights this time are stars.
Now, as I round the spiral staircase of my own
DNA, I find fewer tar sands, smaller shadows on
The squeaky stairs that used to hang me up.
Trusting even when I find there are lead layers yet
To strip away, stronger lights needed, that
Moving up the stairs with just found confidence
Improves my chances for a sweet moment on the floor.
This is good, and without fraction. Wholeness
Becomes so precious that discovering it, I
Defend my nudity now, and expand resistance to
Hiding out in those masquerades that were
Foisted on me so arbitrarily. In the arms of a sure
Dancer, myself, there is an arranged potential to
Improvise the steps and that makes living audacious.
copyright © 2012 Amanda Morris Johnson
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Once self-acceptance has rooted itself
There are consequences to the branches.
I see the shifting paradigm of growth
Wrap itself around this knowing mirror
Of Venus that has gone from mere vanity
And obsession, to understanding my innate
Value. I wake up to all of life and the fact
That a presence in me holds out for this reach
And already forgives me though I am no dog
Pissing on my personal tree. Ownership is a
Transgression I can only allow my will, but maybe
It is now possible to hand over the prism I looked
Through for so long. I can’t blame anyone for
Authority to train me, and now I am choiceless
In the discernment of time passing I, with you,
Share, and I know my duty to fulfill the purpose
I’ve suddenly discovered, to answer the shofar,
The call to live fully resolved and reassembled. I
Remember my name is written in the book of life
Forever. The hourglass, the sundial, the gray
Hairs on my head cannot interrupt my patience.
copyright © 2012 Amanda Morris Johnson
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Reborn, ever and ever, the sun out of
Dullness, I am the child of inner parents
Ready to love themselves, and I appreciate
This birth, reserved for disciples of
Hastened ends, resulting in an initiation of
Flight for a Phoenix, a ride on the Lion,
Hearing the wisdom of the Crow, owning
Dear innocence at the center of each being
My sources and interpretations mingle as a
Murmuration of starlings, the sunflowers ever
Facing the light. Yes, the progress of butterflies -
Their wings generating storms transforming
The known universe or the painter’s hand brushing
With trust for a destination only hands know.
Of my mistakes that turn out to be the
unexpected prodigal road home to that place
Where abiding joy is, where the unspoken truth
Lays bare to our souls and all that is left
Is a great and warm homecoming, a celebration
Of all that we have been, and now can
Become in the radiance of due life.
Copyright © 2012 Amanda Morris Johnson
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A stone in the heavens, the moon and earth’s
Swaying tides inextricable from each other’s journey.
Delicious stirring of all alchemical elements
Essential for creating and I partake languidly
Now in those rhythms, become cooperative as a swan.
My life inclined now to change. My gut feeling is
To trust this, in spite of the lunacy involved.
I set off on a new journey with dark acceptance.
Waters of reflection are just apparent to me.
And the moonlight pulls something darker out of
The muck through sexual innuendo and determined
Suggestions I cannot hope to control, but when I
Give into the nature of myself and see this
Innate honesty about my expressions gliding on
The surface, fooled by light, as truly only
Part of the story, then I dive into the murky
Unknown, and begin to understand my unity with
All that is. Now I can fly with fortitude on
Night’s map of myself, dealing with what I’ve been
Brought to, and though it is not peace I imagined,
It is peace that can be tenderly held in my soul.
copyright © 2012 Amanda Morris Johnson
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Let me not mince words here because I need
To understand that I wanted to blow this shit up,
And I can’t afford anymore illusions about
Who or what has occurred. I have been screwed
By the idea of my innocence until I was thrown
Into a veritable volcano, not to prevent
Eruption but to encourage the Terra forming
To follow. I want to wipe out the path to
The future that I was planning based on
Faith in falsities until the stones there
Are new again. It’s simply not enough to
Move forward into the vision that could be
Genuinely harmonious, if I leave in place
Beliefs that will sabotage the future as much
As they did the past. I’m unwilling to sit in
The ashes of my failure and boo-hoo over the
Loss of dreams. Rather I would grow wings
In this fall, accept the challenges as life
Gets harder on my advance. I may be scorched
But I’ve already faced death and so I blaze
With glory, and say, “Bring it on!”
copyright (c) 2012 Amanda Morris Johnson
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Kosmic Egg Tarot Project is a growing multi-media exploration of the system of Tarot from my perspective. Eventually, over time, I hope to add my designs, audio readings, and explanations of how I came to see the cards in this way...it will take some time, so join me for the journey. 
