A noble woman of Piscean heritage found herself embroiled in scandalous rumors within her tribal community, alleged to have engaged in an illicit romance with a married man. Subjected to cruel punishments and public humiliation, she was overcome with panic and decided to flee, transforming herself into a creature of the sea for protection.
It is said that in ancient Greece, the goddess Aphrodite once felt a similar dread when pursued by the tempestuous god of storms. To escape his wrath, she is said to have transformed into a fish and sought refuge beneath the waves. Just as this divine figure knew the solace of the deep, so too did the tribal woman now find refuge in the water’s embrace.
Though wrongly accused, her heart had known deep affection for another. Like the moon of Pisces that rules the tides of emotion, she struggled against powerful currents not of her own making. In the night skies over Hellas, the lifeforms of the zodiac depict tales as old as time. There we see Aphrodite surrender again and again to passion’s pull, so drawn to the god of war and beauty’s fleeting incarnation.
It is said Aphrodite’s consort Hephaestus, the master of fires, also felt envious flames within. Yet for the goddess of affection, old habits died with difficulty. That primordial longing which stirred her soul refused restraint, yearning for earthly passion’s seed.
Such is the celestial cartography of Pisces, twin souls entwined as one.
That somber year, my circle of companions saw five lights extinguished in succession. From March through July they ascended to the heavens – two felines, an ovid form, a virtuous maiden and a philanthropic archer, each returning to the stellar realm.
Gazing at the dust of stars which carpet the night, I pray for their souls and learn from their transient nature. As scripture teaches, even the lowliest speck has worth. The heavens hold more mysteries than our eyes perceive.
We would be wise to examine each face as its own cosmos. Within locks of hair and smiles’ curvature lie whole galactic swirls. Tears fall as scattered star maps across wrinkled skin. Even each taste bud and its imprint holds rising stars. As the years pass, all things ebb and flow, shine brightly or recede into shadow, in keeping with celestial rhythms.
These lights have known both youth and age, as we all must, though mortal calendars mean little against deep time. When next we meet, may peace reign between us as it does in the spaces between stars.