THE MATH: (Mercury + Mars CONJUNCT Scorpio) TRINE (Pallas Athene + Pisces) = Intellectual Property


Mercury and Mars figured out

how to tap into the Island.

They listen on bugged lines
as Vesta and Athena exchange ideas…
"How do you choose,
a direction to make
Athena?"  Vesta asks.

"Usually, I see
a pattern in my mind,
of a desired feeling,
and I do my best
to render it, but the Labyrinth
lands in the 3D,
however it feels like it."

Vesta nods, spacing out
staring at Athena's braid,
"I like this one,
it is easy on the eyes."

"Good," Athena nods,
"That is what the Walker asked 
it be.  How do you
choose what voice
to write in, Vesta?"

Vesta looks up, "I do not
choose.  Usually,
I am doing something else
and I hear a hint
of a conversation,
and I drop what I am
doing, to follow it.
These days, I usually 
know who is speaking,
but sometimes I do not
know who they are gabbing with.
Then, I pull out
the ephemeris, and let
the Stars fill in the gaps."

"Creativity is weird,
ain't it?"

"It is. Sometimes
I fear it."

"I get that.  Weaving
can feel psychotic.
It can be hard to tell
the dancer from
the dance after 
a few Tales."

"And yet I do not want
to stop doing it.."
Vesta's mind begins to drift.

"I'd like to stop,"
confesses Athena, abruptly
interrupting Vesta's reverie,
"This may be my last
batch of Labyrinths."

"You always say that,"
Vesta teases her, "You might
want to stop serving
ultimatums, if you really want
to be done with it."

Athena sighs, "I love them, 
but my body does not
want to make them anymore."

"But you are so good at it!"
Vesta protest, "Everyone is always
amazed at how you whip them out
so bright, and smooth, and flat.
When the normies touch them,
their eyes get huge, and dilated.
And everybody laughs, speaking
about which ones they like,
or detest."

Athena shrugs, "All I have
done is made use,
of being alone."

"I get that," Vesta says,
"I was one of those kids
who adults praise for being
'highly imaginative,'
but really just has no other
tools for processing
neglect, christian doctrine,
and sexual trauma."

"The luck of the Irish!"
Athena exclaims,
"How much of what you
write, do you 
actually publish,
my little Fae wanderer?"

"Maybe 1/8 of it?
There is a difference
between what is for mySelves
and what is for
the psychologists."

"How do you tell it?"

"What's for them pops
out, complete, and All
at once."

"You know you're just, like,
giving away your intellectual
property, for free, right?"
Athena asks her, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah.  And so do
the psychologists."

"And you're okay
with that?"

"That depends which part of me
you ask.  Ideas don't belong
to people, Athena.
We hardly even know
where they come from.
It's not like 
I am the kind of being 
who runs out of them.
What do you want 
me to do, make a OnlyFans
for my artgasms, and the creepy
psychologists who Love them?"

"That's a ridiculous idea,"
Athena scowls.

"Of all the ideas 
on this Island, that is
the One that you condemn?"

"Yes... what are you doing?"

"I'm putting on some music.
To help your body 
unravel, and bring you back
to the forests of my homeland."

"How will a song do that?"

Vesta smiles wide,
"You close your eyes,
Athena, and dance."

Athena’s has a waking

dream as she dances. She opens
Vesta diary, to quickly scribble it…
In my dream

I was in a gathering place,
and so were all my rugs.

I had not brought them
there.  In a pile, they were

stacked, like the Akashic
Records;  Each disk, a compilation

of an outpouring of Life.
I just stumbled into them

there, like everybody else.
Some were bigger than I

remember.  A man asked me
if I was Catholic.  "No, but

it is in my lineage."  A woman
told me they are beautiful, but

they look like pain, and isolation.
Made in the Dark.

I told her she's not wrong,
but I no longer make them.

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