In the crowded hullabaloo of last weekend's epic apocal'eclipse, it was not easy to discern what was torrenting through our worlds. Many streams of influence converged to drag us all across the threshold of before and after. This period of time will be the passage generations to come will look back on to see the split, the place where history cleaved and the past's grip loosened its hold on the future.

The dark moon descends like a blanket thrown over us just in time. Drawing the shutters - if you will - on a rampaging last month that arrived with full notice of revolution and then knocked it into the stratosphere. The constant step ball change of retrograde mania. That full on full moon eclipse that tipped us all over its falls. Lifequake after truth bomb after rabid revelation. Tides and tempers peaked and rinsed on repeat. And all as own ready renovations and reckonings - or is that whole life edit - echo and churn.

Even after such a long dark middle ages she resisted the cocoon until finally the gossamer weave was placed gently over her sagging shoulders. She folded herself into it gratefully and balled up to swim her way through the transition.

Dark moon, thy name is respite and relief. Time to tend arrives now as the barely there crescent turns her face away and tucks back into herself. If you will let yourself linger long, this dark moon offers a wonderful scrying pool to craft uncommon sense from the fray.