An incendiary dark moon descends over us all now, its pull to rest and recalibrate at odds with broiling revolution. If you needed an omen for the eclipse season incoming, the days between now and the Pisces new moon will likely deliver it. Try not to baulk when it lands like a bomb, like a blast of past angst, or dripping in blood. The gloves have actually always been off.

This week begins in the hazy daze of Neptunia, its surreal half light obscuring and conjuring by design. Its been a wild weird wired weekend on planet rebirth. Emerging from the fray like a blessed slingshot, Mars finally concludes his months long hamstrung retrograde in Cancer. Though this will not instantly dry up all the tears nor quell the shouting, it does offer significant hope for fresh resolution and resolve on the way.

This weekend tells a tale of two cities, distinct in form and function, beholden only to their sphere of influence. You probably already know which is having its way with you and all in your sightlines by the stark difference in experience.

As Aquaria's wake leaves a trail of stars for us all to collect later, Pisces season rushes in to drag us over its falls. This year delivering inexorable evolution through eclipse and retrograde, threshold and dissolution, its riptides already pulling us in. The ides of March have the old world in their thrall already as its extinction lip curls and snarls.

Dark moon, thy name is dissolution as we make our way through the liquidity of the far end of the zodiac. Cut off from the cult of knowing and planning by design. Released from the strict safety of hospital corners and known quantities. Floating on a sea of unlimited potential whose murky depths will demand a different kind of discipline.

The rampant revolutionising of life and love paired with the gentle oblivion of the far end of the zodiac demands mutiplicity but it is a slippery sucker to hold. Its pretty fleeting fish swim in two different directions. Hope defies certain death. Grief mingles with joy in brackish water. The future is a promised land just over a border we can feel but can't see.

The water always called, whispering in strange tongues as her blood rushed and the tides surged. Between the moon and her there were no secrets. Nothing hidden from the gloaming that promised its night of strange fables, already stippling her skin as she dreamwalked the shoreline.

Depth charge, anyone? Pisces season arrives now, inconveniently ensconced between the Aquarian search party on the hunt for something truer and Aries' cauterising of the old world in service of the future. Resilience building in the grift betwixt all the 'cides colliding and oblivion. The ever present threat of delusion and subtefuge disturbing what once passed for peace.

More than a week into the mythical mutable realms and we are being relentlessly dazzled by the skies of the farthest reaches. Auroras have been blazing across a wide band from both poles, even further afield since Pisces arrived promising the next big things.

The far end of the zodiac is nigh, and more besides drawing inexorably towards its passing. As we navigate the dissolution inherent in the outer reaches of the last sign, so too are we bearing witness to the end of the world as we knew it.

This week, in the stars and in the world, is crammed with aspects and perspectives that will draw a firm line between past and future. Between the old world still raging in its brutal efforts to survive through sheer force and the new world emerging from its smoke and ruins.

It was back in Pisces of 1859 that Charles Dickens penned the first instalment of what would become A Tale of Two Cities, musing on the fervent intersection of the individual with revolution.

Every month in a row she calls us to temporary retirement. The beautiful moon hides her face, the stars blaze in her absence and the tides within us ebb. The bone tired exhaustion of all these modern gauntlets run on repeat catches up with us. We are world weary and craving retreat, rest and recalibration. The dark moon envelops us in her soft folds.

It takes a while to get your sea legs. Pisces season always asks us to dive deeper than we did the time before and swim further from our safe shores. Pisces in the burgeoning age of Aquaria has initially held us all as fish out of water, imploring us to learn new strokes with which to navigate the surreal currents of humanity's overdue revolution. The one that never had any intention of us escaping its net.

Welcome to the deep darklings, as the sun leads the charge out of the gates of Aquaria. Venus will follow into Pisces next week though the vibe of the dive remains distinctly Aquarian. Not drowning, transmogrifying.

Though the moon is newly reborn in Pisces, this is not a start line from which to clang or bolt or proclaim. Not all moons are created equal and lunar solidarity resists such limiting prescription, tis the feminine after all. In Pisces the new moon is curtains parting to reveal a deep ocean, gently lit by moonlight whose shining surface promise only its depths.

A word to the wise mermaids, as we navigate the fathoms of Pisces season and Mercury's emo retrograde. Though this sign cultivates the shamanic depths and our emotional currents, it also has a spectacular penchant for drama, delusion and evasive bypass. Pisces is just as great at opting out or cultivating unconsciousness. Everything has its shadow.

The sun's plunge into Pisces is our latest initiation point. Now we dive into Neptunia. Pisces is our shamanic sight line, the domain of peak emo as barometer and compass.