Ketu near Mercury = lost in translation

When Ketu stands near Mercury, something gets lost. Words slip through cracks you can’t see. Thoughts feel clear inside, but fade when spoken. You begin to explain, then stop. The sentence turns to fog. People wait, but you’re already somewhere else—mentally gone, following a different thread. You don’t mean to confuse them. But it happens.

Your mind works in spirals, not lines. You catch symbols in midair. You understand what others can’t name. But Mercury wants neatness—facts, clarity, form. And Ketu pulls you the other way. It dissolves, detaches, forgets. You’re not forgetful, not really. Just distant from what others expect. You listen more than you speak. And when you do speak, it may sound abstract or unfinished.

You often doubt your own words. They feel too small for the idea behind them. You try to explain feelings with logic. It doesn’t land. Others look confused. You start again, softer, slower—but even then, the meaning trails off. Misunderstanding becomes normal. You feel it but can’t fix it.

There’s a loneliness in this. A silence that isn’t chosen, but felt. You want to be known, but not in surface ways. You want someone to hear the quiet behind your voice. Not just the words, but what they failed to hold. With Ketu near Mercury, speech becomes sacred—and fragile. You’re here to name things no one else sees. But the naming is never simple.

Still, this placement has beauty. You sense what’s hidden. You speak in shadows, in symbols, in silence. Your thoughts reach into the past, into dreams, into forgotten places. They come back changed. You may write. You may listen deeply. You may carry ancient language without knowing it.

You are not broken. Your mind just bends toward mystery. And mystery doesn’t shout. It waits. It wanders. It whispers through gaps in meaning. If you follow it, your words will return—not loud, but real. Not exact, but true. And someone, someday, will understand.