Margarete Petersen: Prince of Cups - a split self


Margarete Petersen: Prince of Cups

Sohn der Kelche

I see a wooden or masked and partly discumbobulated prince sunken deep at the bottom of a lake, surrounded by bubbles the color of kelp, and a blue spirit rising free above him, as if it were his spirit floating free on the astral plane.

  • Translation

    My mother gave me compassion. My father taught me the language of the waters. My sister, pure as a lotus blossom, gave me tenderness. I drink and drink, and yet no water can quench my thirst. I am familiar with all the reflexions on my skin. Sometimes I see my father, I have forgotten where my mother lives. Like the flower petal, I float on the waves of self-remembrance. In the dark of night, I feel gounded and the architecture of my thoughts flows. In daytime, the sharp knife of my understanding splits me. I feel sad, and conceal it. Twighlight lets me come to peace. The control sleeps, and I float on the spring through the mirrors. I let myself fall, my carapace grows weak. Following the traces of a thousand pearls of air, I sink to the ground, with the melting sensation that waits for me.

The image and MP's text suggest something beyond the normal "dreamy romantic type" for this prince -- here is one who feels most comfortable in the astral plane, it would seem! Not just a free spirit, but a free floating spirit!

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