The World - Robin Wildt Hansen

XII The Hanged Man:

The rope suspends me above the worlds. Blood rushes downwards to my eyeballs as they bulge and my vision fixes on the kind face of the Moon far below. The Man in the Moon looks up and winks at me.

My vision rafts further down, fragmented by my swaying and the pain that jets through my body, yet penetrating world after world. I recognise beacons of light in the night: the Hermit, white-clad on his mountain; the Sun shining from the dress of the Empress; the electrical currents over the lake; the Moon shining from the ocean.

XIII Death:

She removes the central jewel from her crown and holds it out in front of her. It's a pomegranate. She cracks it open with her nails, digs into it and reaches out her open hand to me, palm up. She is holding seven red seeds. She nods. I bow my head and eat the seeds from her hand. Swallowing the last seed, I look up. She has disappeared, her hand's caress still on my lips. A figure in a purple cloak stands before me, a skull grinning at me from inside the hood, the necklace around his neck with its purple skulls lighting up the cave.

'The coins,' he says, pointing the bone that is his index finger towards my eyes.

XVI The Tower:

'But who are you?' I ask.

'I'm the daemon who walks behind you. I'm the guardian of all the gates you have passed, and that await you. I'm the Lord of the Crossroads. Be my friend and I will lead you to the key to the World. I am the greatest of all gods, because I am everywhere.'

'Really?' I say, raising an eyebrow.

'Look, I will show you.' Holding on to one of the steps, he leans out and points downwards. My eyes run down the brickwork of the Tower. The world appears below, the oceans washing rhythmically against the sides of the continents.