Dear Saturn,

I would hear a clock ticking - incessant, consistent - as steady as a tide, as predictable as the falling leaves of autumn. Eventually, as with all things we wear, we no longer notice -like a hole in a woollen sweater, the bare heel in some socks, the greying hair perched on temples; they cease to exist in the foreground of the mind.

One day, when I could finally lay myself to rest and look at the trees, I realised the clock must've stopped ticking. If I ever wore a watch, it must've been a dream where I could recall the droning ta-tick. If I ever gazed upon the misshapen arms and the possible notched crucifixions again, I might regard it with confusion - this thing that I once called time.

For the first time, in a long, long, time - I looked upon my garden. The good and bad fruits. The small and neglected greenery. The vast unsown, unknown and known pastures of my life. And Saturn, once assessing, tore out the many roots I had cultivated myself, that I had calloused my hands over, that my knees ached over. Defiant and desperate, I tried to regrow all that I had lost for it to be torched once more in the spring.

There are moments in my life where I remember I am simply a memory of sky. Isn't it fitting then, that Saturn in Pisces, poured water and flooded - both drowned and quenched - what I had done with my life?

Oh, Saturn. Keeper of time. Father of abundance and dissolution. Patriarch of reaping and sowing. You took everything from me and in exchange, liberated me from the chains I put on myself. This time, I will say it plainly.

I love my life. Each careful seed I held in my hands. I no longer ask my life to be perfect or in another's image. It is just mine - in all its beauty, glory, ugly and disappointments. I write this to cast aside any blame I held for the choices of my crop. But instead, to renew all that I have built, and will continue to build.

P.S.

My Saturn return was craazzzyyy yall. But honestly, a beautiful journey and very grateful for the necessary growth.