Libra, today you shall awaken to a quiet morning, shrouded in an uncanny preternatural melancholy, so thick it threatens to dampen the corners of your eyes. The mundane shall rend itself obscure, and normality will be consumed by the irrational. Your affable balance, often the ship to guide you through the tempest of existence, appears a pale flicker against the curtain of great cosmic infinity. Faint whispers trace your ear, emitted from a source not of this universe, yet intimate in its knowledge of your soul.

This afternoon, your reflection in the mirror will no longer appear your own, morphing into a grotesque parody of your visage, wearily lost within the abyss of existential dread. As shadows deepen with the dying day, there is an ineffable notion of familiar eyes, weaving themselves into the fabric of your reality, haunting every glance you cast towards the emptiness. You shall find inanimate objects spring to eldritch life, their alien movements casting mocking shadows upon your cherished sanity. The night you thought was refuge shall turn a haunting host, the stars winking out to usher in an unspeakable truth, lurking just beyond the veil of your consciousness. Take heed, Libra, on this day of shattered reality, for the maw of the unknown yawns wide to consume you. Your greatest fear and deepest fascination will soon blur into one — the awareness of the unknowable.