In the souls of Men and Women, Neptune sleeps. His passage is slow, relatively calm, participating in the divine discontent that nourishes artists, plunging thoughts into an ocean of reveries or a nameless fog, a malaise, a slip.

In the souls of Men, Children and Women, marine currents, elixirs or poisons move. Their destiny and journey can then take the road of inspiration or plunge into whirlpools of intoxication. Thus, a poet is often nothing but rambling, a priest is more a functionary of the faith than a bearer of a mission. At the same time, an alcoholic falls asleep like sediment at the bottom of his soul.

Neptune is fine rain, slippery, floating. If he rises at the moment of birth, he hypersensitizes the being who suffers him; if he's high up in the sky, he blows his wet wind over the harebrained clouds so that eternal illumination fertilizes the good gestures of the heart. But if, from any angle, he interferes, blocking the other gods, he can lull the most solid of realists into delusion.

It's easy to lose control at the sight of him. Wine calms the blood but can also turn it into a storm. Words and deeds become an amalgam of clumsy conjectures.

We don't know when Neptune is avenging or inspiring. He is, after all, ocean, horizontal and strong, but also born of chasms and quick to break waves. He's the bearer of a deluge of perdition. On his waters, sailors must be on the lookout, and residents must not let their guard down on land. For one day, Neptune will be angry. He has the power to destroy nations, poison fish, melt glaciers, and submerge the impetuous madness of civilizations.

Five times in the tumultuous history of Life, the oceans have been renewed on this planet. It will happen again, and no God will lift a finger. Not Mars, Venus, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus or Pluto. Mercury will be content, as always, to observe, and the Moon will turn a blind eye or evaporate.

Neptune is romanticism, spiritualism, a sense of belonging to a greater whole. He depicts the soul of people born under the sign of Pisces. He silently erases certainties when he touches the celestial zones inherited at birth. I'm living proof of this. Right now, boundaries are dissolving in my soul. Neptune converses with Mercury. He pushes me into rêverie, confuses my conversations and intoxicates me with uncertainty. It was also a period of sudden poisoning that I didn't want. Since then, I've avoided even a glass of alcohol, which was never a problem for me. I've become a sailor and a riverside dweller.

I can cope with it because I'm past the age of arrogance and increasingly fragile. I prefer to go back to being a poet, the one who, as a teenager, wrote long letters addressed to no one. I can trust him. He's stronger than I am; there's no point pretending otherwise.

With this new intelligence that we call artificial, but which is really just an extension of our own delusions, who knows what adventures and knowledge Neptune will lead me into?

Times are uncertain for everyone. The statues are melting in a bitter acid rain. Will we be inspired or drugged? Those who observe the stars speak of a most illusory coming year.

What will Neptune do? What will you do?