You wander a place of leafless trees, a land of the shoulderless where the one-armed man is king. Rounding a corner, you see Death before you, the nameless destroyer, the number of destruction, hope and rebirth.
As you watch, his flesh withers, revealing the skull below. The skull cracks and a new face emerges from within, then this too withers. So the endless cycle of transformation continues.
A story ends, a book slams shut, the pain of change lies ahead. Resistance is deception; give yourself to this change, and sit with your mourning.
Like the face of Death, this phase is temporary. Something has fulfilled its allotted time, and the universe yawns with new horizons. Shake off the withered flesh of outworn aspects and step forward with hope and faith.
Circumstance pools around you, thick shiny liquid that sucks on your limbs and prevents you from making the progress you desire. Inertia is a heavy cloak you wear, a mistaken armour against the acceptance of change.
Consider context. This lethargy may be self-imposed, or it may be a signal from the stars; if other signs are positive, relax in your stillness. The past will release you, the future will emerge.
Selected Works