I've been land. I've been low.
I've been hymn-in-a-chorus,
squawk from the henhouse,
bee in a meadow.

I've been hills. I have rolled.
I've been upward-so-gently,
curved earth for day nap,
fog drench at moonrise.

Now, I'm mountain; I rise.
I am wind-carve-the-granite,
star gleam on summit,
an entrance to sky.
 

The Hanged Man
Death
Temperance

The Devil
The Tower
The Star

The Moon
The Sun
Judgement

The World