07.06.2020

Moonrise after the eclipse and her fever pitch has peaked. The dance with her lover the sun an act in three parts, distinct and palpable.

Act one was the Saggitarian truth bomb, the one that cannot be denied or reframed though they will try. The old guard eclipsed, they feel their cosseted world and ways crumbling, the panic rising and raising their arms. But the horse has already bolted crying freedom and it cannot be corralled again. The revolution long had us in its sights and now we can feel it under our skin. It will not be unseen, knows its time has come.

You will have been shown this weekend an unassailable truth, hard to hold. Perhaps on many fronts, its weight like iron. The velvet curtain pulled back on the stench, the carnage and rot visible and hideous. The waning phase between now and the next eclipse is your excavation and clean up. You are making space, calling time and leaning hard on the tiller. This is not the first time you have changed course this year.

You will need to seek out new maps and also begin to chart the course yourself. Discomfort is your first mate, fed up with your attempts to outrun the shadows that chase you around the deck. They will not catch the light until you sit at their table and listen. Will not speak until they watch you lay your insides on the table first and begin picking through the folds. Cannot take your hand until you do.

The waters will still and rise and storm again. The wind whipping your old ways, flinging them into the sea. The ship will heave and groan under the weight of its own revolution. It will limp into soft harbours and rest. You will make repairs under a different sun. Some days you will think only about what you now know. All that you have unlearned will be locked in an old box and surrendered to the depths to decay.

You will watch fearless surfers bob on the glassy face of the revolution and track new paths through huge waves. You will note well how the moon hides her face and turns within to prepare for her next rebirth. Feel the pull towards something greater. Sense a deeper meaning to their dance.

You won't figure out who you are until the world burns

~ @a.b.cofer

Photo @anthonyglick

Words c. Kerrie Basha 2020