TAROT PREDICTION. WORLD 2025. FEBRUARY. ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT

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The 21st Arcana: The World
Peace negotiations.
Four kings dine at a table, drinking wine and laughing.
They have gathered to decide the fate of the entire world.

The First King – the victor. His symbol is the Lion.
The Second King – his symbol is the Bull.
The Third King – his symbol is the Eagle.
The Fourth King – his symbol is the Angel.

Six of Swords
But not all the kings are pleased with this peace.
One of the kings is visibly upset, clenching his fists under the table.
Peace has come, but it will not last long.
One of the kings decides to poison the victorious king, slipping poison into his glass.

The 21st Arcana: The Moon
The Angel King knocks the glass from the Victor King's hand.
The assassination attempt fails. The King escapes death.

The 1st Arcana: The Magician
The Victor King is now stronger than ever.
He has wealth, power, the scepter of authority, and a glass free of poison.

Story

The night descended, skies turned gray,
Stars but whispers, light's decay.
Four kings sat at a table big,
Bound by powers vast and deep.

The Lion rose with fiery pride,
A conqueror, bold, none could divide.
His goblet burned with ruby light,
His symbol roared in endless fight.

The Bull, with shoulders broad and strong,
Unyielding, stoic, to time's long song.
A gaze as firm as ancient stone,
His strength the mountains claimed their own.

The Eagle soared, his eyes aflame,
To heights unknown he laid his claim.
With wings of daring, spirit free,
He craved the winds of destiny.

The Angel smiled, serene, divine,
His presence soft, his essence fine.
A symbol pure of hope and grace,
A guardian for the human race.

The wind howled fierce beyond their walls,
A mirror to the room's hushed calls.
The Lion raised his goblet high,
"For balance now, beneath this sky!"

The kings agreed, their hearts aligned,
Their oaths declared, their wills combined.
Yet shadows stirred in Bull’s stern heart,
A secret plan to tear apart.

Beneath the table, fists were tight,
His eyes aflame with hidden spite.
A vial gleamed, his hand slid low,
A single drop, fate’s bitter blow.

"For the future," he whispered faint,
A cruel resolve, his soul’s dark taint.
But Angel's eyes, so sharp, so clear,
Saw treachery's shadow drawing near.

With swiftness born of holy grace,
The Angel struck with timeless pace.
The goblet shattered, wine ran red,
A warning from the almost-dead.

The Lion stared, both stunned and grim,
His life preserved, his rage within.
"An act of treason?" roared his cry,
His voice a storm against the sky.

The Angel raised his hand to still,
"Peace demands the purest will.
If hate and greed our hearts shall stain,
Then kingship’s crown is but a chain."

The Bull looked down, his spirit torn,
His strength a burden now forlorn.
The Eagle rose, his feathers wide,
"If war must come, then let it ride.

The skies bear witness, truth shall reign,
Only the worthy will remain."
The Angel sighed, his voice grew cold,
"This war will strip us to the soul."

The storm outside, a dire refrain,
Matched the turmoil, the growing strain.
Once bound by trust, now torn apart,
Four kings, four fates, one broken heart.

And as their discord shook the land,
The world’s frail peace slipped through their hands.
For where kings falter, chaos thrives,
And darkness waits where light divides.

...


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