🌕 What the Moon Told Me in the Softening

A confession, a quiet spell, a whispered contract between soul and sky.

Some truths don’t arrive as thunder.
They slide in sideways, under your ribs, on nights when you mistake surrender for silence.

The Moon has always been my confidante.
Not because I chase her phases. I am shaped by them.
Cancer rising.
Which means I don’t just feel the tide. I am the tide.

And on the night after the unraveling - when I thought the worst had already happened.
She spoke to me. Not in words, but in that peculiar rhythm the cosmos keeps when it’s trying to keep you alive.

She didn’t say, you’ll be okay.
She didn’t say, you’re strong.
She said, stop trying to translate everything into reason.

The mind wants a plot.
The soul wants poetry.

What was unraveling wasn’t me.
It was the illusion I could out-think my own becoming.

Soul Contracts, Rewritten
Somewhere between breath and bone, I remembered this isn’t my first heartbreak.
Or my first lifetime.
There are people we meet who unlock memories we didn’t know we were carrying.
And sometimes, the lesson isn’t to hold on—it’s to honor the meeting.
To say thank you, even if the goodbye came without warning.

Not all contracts are meant to last forever.
But every soul that touches ours leaves an imprint—on the art, on the body, in the blood.

After the Undoing Comes the Bloom
I didn’t get clarity.
I got quiet.
And in that quiet, I remembered:

✨ Not everything has to make sense to be sacred.
✨ Some healing is private, untranslatable, and celestial.
✨ You don’t need closure. You need harmony.

I wrote this not to explain what happened.
Rather, to remind myself—and maybe you—that sometimes, the epiphany is simply enduring.
That the Moon is always listening.
The fracture wasn’t a failure.
It was a door.

🌑 We don’t always need answers—sometimes we just need a mirror.

Stories like these aren’t just mine. They’re echoes.

If you’re walking through your own softening, subscribe and walk with me awhile.

Still becoming,
Franceasca