XII: The Hanged Man

Suspended, floating, frozen in time or so it seems. The eye of the hurricane, where everything is painfully slow like trying to escape the molasses flood and each breath seems to take an eternity yet the world around moves too fast to process or grasp.

Subtle growth is being made in the stillness, though – the left-wrist dragon bears silent witness and speaks his amethyst agreement.

A time to pause, to plan, to seek new wisdom and direction. Maybe even a time for discounted prayers.

Hoping to wake refreshed in the morning with all back to the way things should be, knowing this won’t happen because everything is completely different now forevermore.