Foot tap,
pencil chewed down to the core.
Focus, it will come.
Awaken the beast.
Tremors and quakes rattle this
vessel of flesh like
a storm that ravages the
spring sky. You do the same to

me. Fingertips like
cold raindrops trace my landscape,
I'm electrified.
Quiet moan breaks the silence;
every cell has come to life.
You bathe at night; soak
in the indigo twilight.
Exhausted from the
overload of emotion,
the lunar light cleansed your soul.

Charming and cunning,
like the lion, you stalk your
prey. Find the weakness
and exploit it; start the fire,
and then claim your innocence.

You are the end and
beginning of the cycle.
Take the heat, and rise from the
ashes in your final form.

Water bearer, you
bring life to this alien
landscape. Barren and
undiscovered, this is your
chance to change the world. Long live
your work of innovation.

Tree branch rib cage and
ivy veins that nurture your
winter-bitten soul.
Precious sunlight has returned;
your garden will bloom again.

The war going on
inside your brain is growing
tiresome. Your strength
is that of the ram, but you
can't always be the hero.

Submersion. Scared and
eye-level with the Angler.
Take pleasure in the
aesthetic. Perhaps a change
of perspective was needed.

Sagittarius (Father Jupiter Would Be So Proud):
Goddess of the hunt,
your need for adventure and
fearless heart combines
and incarnates the wander-
lust warrior that you are.

Eyes like a doe; she
is wise, nurturing, and vast.
Motherly strength is
the coat worn over bared bones
and bruised knees. She's her own crutch.

Neither side of your
scale may touch the ground.
Chaos may welcome
you with open arms, but she
will grow cold and deranged, love.

Though you are stubborn,
your heart is made of feather,
you fierce, burly ox.
Romantic and devoted,
the darkness in you is gold.

Gemini (The Twin Flame):
How exciting and
infuriating it must
be to look in the
mirror to face your best friend
and your greatest enemy.
What's your sign? Can you relate to any of these?
I remember pressing my
innocent ears to the mouths
of discarded seashells, just to
hear their secrets; and I shared mine.
They told me secrets in the form of
ocean waves and whispers of wind
between the fingers of the palms.

On days that I feel the world
crumbling and combusting
around me, I press my wiser
ears to the same lips that kept
all my secrets safe. I remember
the advice seashells gave to a
young girl who'd felt discarded.
Be like the ocean, let it flow.
I stalked our horoscopes;
I deciphered the coffee grounds.
I even took the time piecing
the broken mirror back together
to read between the cracks,
in hopes I'd receive a sign.

The Universe told me to
stop searching the unknown
for answers I already know.
My coffee grounds suggested
that I needed to sleep, and
the shattered mirror crooned:
"Put yourself back together
before you try to mend another."
Faux happiness bursts
through my internal seams. The
truth will be revealed.
Better days are coming.
You can find my grave
buried beneath the practiced,
perfected simper.
Don't confuse the glow behind
my lids as life. No one's home.
Next page