November 22nd has us caught between the anticipation of an oncoming deluge and a stagnant marsh. The distant foreboding rumbles of the flood merge with the psychedelically colored water in the quiet swamp. Vapors of addiction, a foggy search for counterparts who inspire possibility and bad medicine form spilled-milk-shaped nixies down there in the substratum.
An owl overlooking our dissolution of self points the way toward an underneath, where we crawl alongside the slugs and worms in the trenches. Deep under the roots, there’s a silent room smelling of damp cellar. In its quiet isolation seeming at first unbearable, we hug our ears to the dirt wall, hearing choirs cheering on our convergence of the underground and upper ground. Dirt sighs & surrenders; light of a sunkissed mountaintop shines into the cave, kissing our faces—today, alone yet guided to light, a most precious meaning of “after dark.”
-World Shadow Horoscope, November 22nd, 2020