V. H. King's Ink

Ephemere Oracle Deck || (8 of Pentacles); 3 of Swords; (9 of Cups); 10 of Pentacles

I always thought I would choose just one
place to mark my body in ink, but my knives
have scarred me plenty. Room for joy is far
overdue, so I’ve been brooding on how
to express the mysteries that resonate

most deeply with me. A lifetime of demands
and defenses have primed me to make no choice
lightly; the marvels wordlessly revealed to me
keep me wondering how I might depict
that which governs and guides me. I could easily
design an entire sleeve, incorporating
every refrain that resounds through my bloodstream.

And I’ve discovered that this is a worthy
practice, a sacred discipline, to curate
the ways I choose to keep living, circumstances
be damned. Memory shifts like sand, and lightning
leaves me as fragile as glass stained by every
mistake I don’t know how to redeem in the wake
of wasted opportunities. But that is just the old

disdain for everything I cannot change. I can anchor
myself in compassion and kindness—and yes, I know
it’s going to be hell, remembering to give myself
the same grace I so easily extend to everyone
else. The fleeting and the eternal are forever two

sides of glory, so here’s to endings and beginning
anew. I will reach for softness and trade in
secrets: sharing the ache of my longing for learning
how to find a home when all this world is so
much churning and storm. May my open palms receive
peace deeper than sea-trenches and beauty beyond
galaxies, burning away only the belligerence
plaguing my sense of personhood and purpose.