The Chariot (a train; a horse; a tale retold)
I see you beneath a blue dome. There you were music. You were song. You were red velvet. You were two thousand people focused on a single point. You were story: a hero failing, forgetting; a god fated to bind himself to deadly oaths; a jealous wife; a faithful daughter wrongly punished; a pair of lovers. You were gold. You began, expanded, coiled, called and called again.
Ten of Swords (a sleep; a dream; a rest between battles)
You are trying to find the word for that exact twist to the branch of the beech tree beyond your window, stretching your spine to bend and knot, spreading your arms and fingers to follow it, feeling for contact between your body and the sky, bearing the weight of clouds.
Five of Pentacles (snow; strife; a door shutting)
You'll be driven out where there's no shelter. It'll be your own doing and no one will miss you when you've gone. You and your companion will leave with nothing and in the weeks to come you'll bicker about whose fault it was. You'll steal one another's food and only speak a kind word when you've something to gain or when you need to huddle together for warmth. All doors will close to you. There'll be no second chances.