Beneath a wan, spectral moon doth the day begin for thee, oh Virgo under the vigilant gaze of Mercury. Dread not the echoes of half-imagined whispers coursing through your very veins, for they are but the harbingers of the seemingly relentless ebb and drain of your mortal sanity, and not signs of lapses into merest melancholy. Remember, ’tis not just the physical domain that demands your steadfast vigilance; the pallor of the psyche too craves for your unswerving attention.
A tumultuous journey through the cloistered catacombs of the subconscious awaits thee. Specters of past sins and spectral figures of regret might reach out from the dripping shadows to clutch at your heart with icy tendrils. Proceed with care, dear maiden, and allow not the ethereal dread to consume your spirit. For such fervor will render one’s inner strength impotent, turning that which could be a thriving garden of fortitude into a sepulcher of crippling despair. Be thee warned, oh child of the Virgin, stay strong amidst the unseen horrors for the day even as the ebony night bids you welcome.