“I lived better when I was ignorant of the sun, tucked away in your chest.”
I am no knowledgeable authority concerning tarot. But one thing I do know about is the Fool.
The Fool is not the first card. The Fool is the card numbered zero. The Fool is the querent, before they even begin their journey towards knowledge.
The Fool is unformed clay. The Fool is the Hero before the Journey. The Fool is Adam & Eve in the garden.
The Fool is me, at age 15, for the first time in my life struck with problems that were my own for solving.
The Fool is Icarus, flying, before his fall. No—the Fool is Icarus with two feet planted on the ground, and no wings to catch the air.
Before, and After.
Today I rode my bike past a place I used to live. What a strange feeling that is. And I couldn’t help it, I scoffed—“Oh, you thought that was a good life, didn’t you?” I scoffed at my past self, and in so doing, made myself a Fool.
But if I was a Fool then, that must mean I am a Fool now. How can it be, when my life seems so wonderful, that when it changes I will look back and think, “Oh, you thought that was a good life, didn’t you?”
To love makes one a Fool. Or at least, it makes me feel to be. How can I know if the affections of my heart are properly placed? When I look back it so often seems to be Wrong.
I do not like to be Wrong.
Maybe only the Fool can love without knowledge, without reservation. Naïveté will get you hurt but it allows for a pure love that can never truly return. Once the Fool has danced off the precipice.
But I am loyal to my core.