The natal chart folds, the aspect fades,
As Pluto calls from deepest shades.
No longer bound by Saturn’s ring,
The soul becomes a fleeting thing.
A silent shift from earth to sky,
Where constellations drift on high.
We are the stardust, silver-spun,
Returning to the central sun.
The chart is closed, the energy free,
Merged with the vast, galactic sea.