From centerstage to backstage: New moon in Virgo

Ripened fruit upon the vine

Your sleeves are rolled up

The vision is distant

Blurred in its edges

But vast and deep

This dream draws you in

And you are ready

Invigorated and charming

You the discerning one

With the quiet flame

When the wax melts

And the metal tarnishes

You will exhale

Into softer intestines

As rules or delays

Bump into your plans

So perfect the vine

That births the fruit

Even after you weave

Vine into flexible rope

The shadows of decay will

Nip at its junctions

Consuming its strength

And dissolving its function

so what does remain?