A Fated Pull

The cards press close with a truth I’m not ready to claim,


The Hanged Man binds me in the ache of not yet choosing.


The Tower warns softly: whatever I decide, nothing stays the same.

*

The Lovers divide my wanting, each path whispering my name,


and I spiral through every outcome until the borders start fusing.


The cards press close with a truth I’m not ready to claim.

*

The Moon rises inside me with a knowing I cannot tame,


a pull I didn’t ask for, a direction that feels intruding.


The Tower warns softly: whatever I decide, nothing stays the same.

*

Judgment calls from the distance, asking who I’ll become without shame,


but obsession over futures keeps every version losing.


The cards press close with a truth I’m not ready to claim.

*

Staying holds its sweetness still, but it flickers like a flame,


dimming each time I imagine the life I’m refusing.


The Tower warns softly: whatever I decide, nothing stays the same.

*

And leaving—God—leaving feels like falling into blame,


a grief-laced freedom my heart keeps both seeking and refusing.


The cards press close with a truth I’m not ready to claim.

The Tower warns softly: whatever I decide, nothing stays the same.