The World Reversed

In a dream, I dream of milling shadows
I follow down corridors with my unturned tarots
I try to find, to reach, to know what's present
But they seem afar 'neath a flickering fluorescent

The Hanged Man's flipped and I throw the card
He floats to a floor, as his eyes regard
I want to seek and find; I want to hide and cower
With failing fortitude I lift and look... it is The Tower

I'm running in reveries to an absorbing umbra
Detached and distant from where I slumber
And now I see the shades of silhouettes all transforming
As the deck in hand radiates heat, to them it's calling

The Hanged Man's flipped and now Death's the card
It floats in flames, to fall and settle; half ash, half charred
And then, The World Reversed, by an open door
With the reality that was, now from a life before

'Twas a dream in a dream of milling shadows
Now I'm here with them and playing from packs of tarots
There's ambient light, a flickering fluorescence
And beyond The Tower, The Moon's a permanent presence