they pointillise the sky, as if it were
so many grains of sand from
the beach of the all-River
as if the beach were a person
as if the person were the sea at seven sunsets
as if.
do you chance the purple waters
in your fragile, unbound form?
or do you wait for night to find you
by the crazy purple shore?
This is a pretty one. There's a confusion between person and sand here, between meadow and sky. I also have no idea how to read it - my head is cluttered with other Sevens of Pentacles, and - the pointillist metaphor turns on - I am not sure whether to read the entire clutch of cards I've seen, or this individual one here.
Much like the Seven of Cups, it's a bit of a doubtful mess. But the confusion here is about physical investment - about being involved in something, having put some stake and perhaps a lot of effort into it, then having to ask; 'is this ever going to be worth it?' Will you ever put enough points of colour in the sky to make a picture? If you leave the shallows and swim, could you truly make it over the dark waters, or will you fall apart?
It's about trust in yourself, and the ability to work hard for what you've invested in. It's also about the ability to spot a bad risk, say 'no' when it's time to say no, and back out with grace before the sea washes over you. It's back-up and shelter as well as long efforts and dirty hands.
Images of the Seven of Pentacles:
The Scapini card makes the risk element prominent; here we have gamblers. Will they quit when they're ahead, play on and lose it all, or fold before they start?
The Osho Zen brings out the virtue at the heart of the Seven of Pentacles: Patience.
Over at the Mythic deck, Daedalus should've said 'no'. Really. Just because you know you can do it doesn't mean it's worth your effort. There could be risks you're not thinking of, like angry kings, or the possibility that you're just a pawn in some game being played by a jealous god. Gotta watch your step here.
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