Page of Cups

I am face-to-face
with a fish
emerging from my
golden cup. It has no
scales and echos
the divine and thornless
roses we used to paint.
I am water, fish says, I am
deep and still.
Affection wraps
me up into a bottomless
pool. Underwater I
can see. The depth
and all the animals
with no name whisper
and croon and connect
the dots to revelation. 
Above me, the world
is magnified and reveals
the rich landscapes, the
mountain tops and valleys,
of minerals. The flowers,
closed, tower and
wait for the sun. When
judgment breathes
into her horn, the sun,
and I, rise to the surface.