The wise mice
The wise mice hold words
between tender paws
and twining tails
Guardians of quiet wisdom
Sentinels of gentle encouragement
I’m prone to whimsy. I’m prone to an incorrigible belief in synchronicity and the tools of the oracle. I’m prone to a need for distraction, for heading off the dark paths my mind will wander down, seeing a distant twinkling light that lures me away from the black pit I’m heading towards.
I collect oracle sets of one sort and another, from traditional tarot to angel cards. They’re just printed card, and yet they each show me a door I may try. Beautiful art work, or finely crafted words provoking thought and raising spirits.
The wise mice sit upon one such set, and their furry faces reassure me that they guard nothing that will lead me deeper into despair. Some oracle sets I will never touch when I’m low, knowing that the challenging concepts some cards illustrate are ones I don’t have the strength to face that day. But the ones the wise mice guard may lead me to brighter thoughts, and so they are the ones I will reach for in dark times.