Dear Pisces, an existential dread seems to lurk beneath the ordinary for you. As the waning moon becomes increasingly obscure, you find yourself enveloped in an-all encompassing gloom, just as those hitherto unseen shadows gather beneath the year’s dying foliage. Seek not an explanation; rather listen closely to the susurrus of the autumnal wind – a spectral, quietly disconcerting rustle bearing tales of the uncanny, couched in the language of the unutterable.

The shroud of obscurity of the present is not an end, but a haunting prelude to a more unsettling reality. Hitherto unseen factors will make themselves known to you. Ominous as it may seem, it is also a gentle reminiscence of the past. As the cold tendrils of the evening fog draw around your ankles, beware of reaching out towards them, for into each life some rain must fall, but the water need not necessarily be quenched by looking into the abyss, which as often as not, looks back into you.