An abstract figure with a head of shattered black glass stands entrapped in a larger body, surrounded by five white disks 3 around the head 2 by their feet. Lines radiate outwards from the black circle behind.

Five of Pentacles

A fallow field, desolate and empty. Barren and miserable, we might find ourselves there. For maybe a moment, the hot sting of rejection or fucking up, or for an age. Despair is something we move through. The fallow field is left to regenerate. What lessons can be gathered in the depths? What yields can be found through hardship.