Ah.

I read “Neptune in Sagittarius” and I wonder: what image do I have of that? I don’t really have one. A concept doesn’t come, what comes is a sensation in the body. Like something expanding until it dissolves. A longing for a horizon that, when touched, turns into mist.

Sagittarius wants the arrow, the taut bow, the distant target, and the truth that stings a little when it hits. And Neptune there… it’s like seeing the target through glass fogged by your own breath. Or like drawing the bow toward a point that’s no longer there, that maybe was never in a fixed place. Truth turns to vapor, the journey becomes a pilgrimage without a map.

It’s not that belief dissolves; it’s that it becomes too vast for a single creed. As if the god of one religion slipped through the edges of its dogma and started waving from the altar of the religion next door. Sagittarius asks: what is the truth? And Neptune answers with an echo coming from every direction at once.

It makes me think of those travelers who aren’t seeking a destination, but the sensation of going. Of philosophy books that end with more questions than answers, and yet leave you full, not empty. Of the missionary who arrives on foreign shores and, instead of converting, is converted by the unfamiliar sky, by the gods with other names who speak to him in dreams.

There’s a sadness there, too. Because the arrow needs a target. Thought needs a starting point, even just to question it. And Neptune in Sagittarius pulls the firm ground from under the archer’s feet. Where do you aim if every path is true and false at the same time? You become an eternal seeker, a student in the back row who knows the test will never come.

But there’s also something immensely freeing about getting lost like that. About letting go of the need to be right. Letting faith be not a fortress, but a breeze that comes and goes through the windows. It’s the mystic who laughs, not the ascetic who suffers. The one who finds the sacred in the tavern, on the highway, in the song he doesn’t understand but that shivers in his chest.

This isn’t a place to build systems. It’s a transit for burning maps. For navigating faith with a broken compass and trusting that the detour is, itself, the path.

And so I think… what if that’s the only truth a Neptunian Sagittarius can bear? A truth that is, above all, a journey to nowhere. A pilgrimage whose only temple is the walking itself.

The voice here stays suspended. Unclosed. Because any conclusion would be an arrow stuck in a target that has already moved.