The tender memory of an otherworldly being, briefly glimpsed in a bowl of faded pink rose petals—this is an invitation to ask for what you want. You must demand it. Now, shut your wings little flower and bump fists with your future self. The moon wants to tell you so, so many things. Are you listening? Go down, down, down into the darkness, knowing that heavy is just the thing.
* * * * * * *
Visualize one of these things today: the sound of mourning doves, the tiniest needle of orange kyanite, music in the key of D, the taste of saltwater, and the emotional honesty of agrimony.