The Softest Spell
New Moon in Taurus
She didn’t mean to cast a spell that night.
But there she was, barefoot, breath low, body pressed against the stillness.
The moon had vanished again, as she always does when something is about to begin. No lantern in the sky. No witness. Just earth. Just pulse.
She had wanted things to move. To shift. To arrive already.
But Taurus speaks in another tempo.
She teaches through slowness. Through devotion. Through the ache of staying.
And so, the girl let herself stop.
She didn’t write a list.
She didn’t make a wish.
She just ran her fingers through thyme and leaned against a tree that had known fifty springs.
The wind braided through her ribs.
The silence held her like water.
And when she finally closed her eyes,
the world whispered…
this is how we begin.
Not in urgency.
But in truth.
A Question for the Taurus Moon
What part of you is still rushing to be enough?
And what would happen if you let it root instead?
