Whether your poetry drips with stardust Or the scent of rain on broken pavement This space I'm opening welcomes it all The sacred, the sensual, the raw The mystic, the dreamers, the lovers The tender and the untamed The common pulse of being human The whispered confessions And the war-cries of true love

The outgrams from the cosmos whispering slow, yes The retrograde's draw the gaze inward Asking us to listen to the quiet gravity Of our own becoming So this week, your words are an instrument of reflection Let them map the constellations within Here your pen becomes a telescope Turned toward the soul Now write Now write