Show Me Your Whole Sky

Tell me about your rising sign.

The sign sitting just above the Western horizon of your birth.

The one you don when the skin of your sun feels like too much.

You wore it as a teenage mask

When your sun felt overexposed

to the taunting

the tugging

the opinions of your peers.

Tell me how you present yourself when your body prickles

from all of the eyes on you.

Tell me how a Taurus rising covers

the youthful excitement,

the manic fervor,

the hair trigger temper

of an Aries sun

with the too cool to care,

sleep on everything safety of apathy and luxury.

Tell me about the Cancer rising that scuttles through social situations,

side to side without ever taking a step forward towards your truth.

Building a thick shell of cranky and crabby

around the soft emotions and easy love of a Libra sun.

Tell me how this ascendant ship you've built to carry you through life

always seems to run best in the water,

blown by the air of your sun,

braving the toughest of waves in the oceans of your own tears.

Tell me about your Venus,

Define what passions set your soul on fire.

Tell me your Venus and in turn tell me your love language

and the tone at which you communicate it.

Tell me what makes your heart ache,

your knees quake,

your emotional erogenous zone.

Does your airy Aquarius venus make you as hard to contain as a summer breeze,

expanding and contracting based on the temperature of our attraction

Needing the freedom to move more than the freedom to love?

Or is it a scorpio venus,

ready for physical connection and relentless attraction,

a capacity for grudges and revenge peppering the end of every relationship?

Tell me about your moon.

About the things that affect your body,

the ruler of your emotions and your appearance,

the mother that helps you ebb and flow.

That virgo moon that drags you down the rabbit holes of your own anxiety.

I want to know how stuck in place you become by the illusion of perfection,

your innate,

crippling need to reach it.

Tell me this so I can grab you by your face,

and whisper that you are already perfect to me

and whisper that you can do it,

and to jump feet first,

Because that Virgo moon head is always tripping you up.

Tell me your south node.

Tell me that bullet of a placement that ripped into you the moment you were born,

created a scar you'd spend your life trying to heal.

If it's your Aries rage,

your Leo pride,

your Capricorn perfectionism.

Not seven deadly sins,

but the twelve troublesome traumas,

threatening to pull out your every thread as you spend your days

trying to reach abundance always directly across from where you were injured.

Tell me what body of water,

or ring of fire,

or earthquake,

or tornado,

creeps in at your darkest moments,

trying to pull you down so that I know how to help pull you out.

Tell me every planet that helped build you

and I’ll love you better than any sun sign could suggest.

Never one dimensional

never flat.

We are a million moments and degrees.

We are nine planets,

a Sun,

a moon,

an asteroid,

and all of our generational trauma.

We are the full sky,

not just the light bringer.

Show me your darkness,

your passion,

your cosmic roadmap,

And I will love you,

All three hundred and sixty degrees of you

Exactly as you need it

As it is written in your sky.

Show me your whole sky

and you show me your whole self.