Odes to Joy

Tarot · Track 34 · middle

Queen of Wands

RWS: a queen on a throne carved with lions and sunflowers, a black cat seated at her feet, a wand in one hand and a sunflower in the other, facing out. Keywords: warmth that commands, magnetism, confidence that pulls a room, and the cat that sees everything.

No audio yet — generation pending.

Lyrics

She’s got the center of the living room locked
Sitting in the yellow chair with the lion-paw feet
Everybody shuts up when she starts to talk
Drawn in by the sheer, undeniable heat
She’s holding a piece of pine kindling in her palm
And a heavy, nodding sunflower in her right
She doesn’t have to issue a single command
To be the absolute center of gravity tonight

Oh, pull up a cushion to the Queen of the Fire
She’s spinning the room on a copper wire
Making you feel like the only one in the light
It’s a beautiful trick, it’s a generous game
To offer your hands to the local flame
But watch the black cat sitting quiet at the hem of her dress
He knows how much work goes into looking effortless

The cat blinks twice at the edge of the rug
Mapping the neuro-geometry of the crowd
He watches her pour from a heavy clay jug
Her laugh is infectious, but it isn’t quite loud
Eleven stems of yellow piled on the table
She gestures with the wood like a conductor’s wand
Keeping the whole swaying ecosystem stable
By pulling the invisible strings she’s holding on

Oh, pull up a cushion to the Queen of the Fire
She’s spinning the room on a copper wire
Making you feel like the only one in the light
It’s a beautiful trick, it’s a generous game
To offer your hands to the local flame
But watch the black cat sitting quiet at the hem of her dress
He knows how much work goes into looking effortless

When the party finally thins to the bone
And the glasses are empty and the ashes sink low
She doesn’t slump down, she doesn’t groan
She just stares at the embers’ absolute glow
The warmth isn’t borrowed, the heat is her own
But fire needs feeding, and the shadows grow

So pull up a cushion to the Queen of the Fire
She’s spinning the room on a copper wire
Making you feel like the only one in the light
It’s a beautiful trick, it’s a generous game
To offer your hands to the local flame
And the black cat closes his eyes at the hem of her dress
Resting his chin in the warmth of the mess

One sunflower left on the cushion
She strikes a match
Just to watch it catch
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