The third and final act of this operatic month comes as a solar eclipse that will make its appearance on August 21 in the grandiose sign of Leo.
Had Juliet lived to a wizened age, we’d recoil from those breasts, low and deflated from years of gravity and nursing babies. We’d suggest that Romeo upgrade to a newer model.
The fears we encounter are much like the villains and monsters that Persephone befriends in the underworld. The illusion of Venus orbiting the Sun backwards is akin to the illusions we harbor around love and the things we value.
Perhaps I'm a Placitarian: a human being who is very likely to fall in love with a town, city, place or location. The sight of a tree or smell of a flower is always more than I expect. I've never looked at a tree and thought, "Wow, that is so disappointing." Nature always satisfies.
Not life but death is the baton we pass on to the next runner. Immortality is a dreadful nightmare -- endless life eking out to no end.
But she is never coming back, and I fear that if I look in too deep, I will find that only emptiness is left. What crayon is going to color that?
I think often how Life got the seasons all wrong. Brent and I were supposed to bury Mom and Dad. Not the other way around.