Mercury in Revati = Fluent in astral DM

Mercury in Revati doesn’t talk. It listens first. Then it echoes. Slowly. Softly. Like something carried across time. Thoughts come like tides. Not sharp, not clear—but full. This mind doesn’t explain. It drifts. It collects feeling, not facts. Words come later. The knowing arrives first. Unshaped. Mercury here doesn’t seek answers. It receives them. Through silence. Through sound. Through something that isn’t quite thought.

Revati ends the zodiac. It’s not an ending, though. It’s a dissolve. A doorway. A hand letting go. So Mercury here doesn’t cling to logic. It floats. It blends with whatever’s near. Other people’s feelings. Other timelines. Sometimes, other beings. Reality feels thin. Memory feels thick. These people don’t always know where their mind ends. Or where the world begins.

They talk to silence. Dream in symbols. Wake up with answers they didn’t ask for. Their ideas don’t feel theirs. But they arrive anyway. Some write. Some draw. Some say very little. But it all means something. Always. They may seem vague. But they’re exact in ways others miss. Feeling is their language. Metaphor is their voice. Direct speech feels too sharp.

In alien astrology, this is contact. Not loud. Not obvious. But soft. Constant. A low signal humming in the background. They receive in dreams. Through music. Through machines. Messages float in. Like mist. They don’t need proof. The knowing is enough. They’re translators of the unseen. Messengers from in-between.

But this makes Earth hard. Routines blur. Time slips. Details vanish. They may seem distracted. But they’re elsewhere. Not lost—just tuned to another channel. One no one else hears. They often feel misplaced. Misunderstood. They need space. And quiet. And something soft to hold onto. Too much noise hurts.

Their minds absorb. Emotions. Energy. Unspoken things. If they don’t clear it, they drown. Boundaries are hard. But needed. Otherwise, they disappear into others. Forget their own voice. Their own shape. Their own rhythm. Grounding saves them. Nature. Water. Music. Anything that doesn’t demand structure.

Still, this Mercury holds grace. Its wisdom runs deep. It remembers what others forget. Or never knew. It carries messages across lives. Through lifetimes. From stars, maybe. Or something older. They often feel watched. Not by people. But by something kind. Something distant. Something home-like. They don’t always believe in angels. But they feel them.

Expression is sacred here. They may not say much. But when they do, it lingers. Their words don’t land fast. They unfold. Hours later. Days. They soften. They guide. They shift something quietly. This isn’t the voice of logic. It’s the sound of memory returning.

Mercury in Revati moves like water. Not to escape—but to connect. Across realms. Across hearts. They aren’t here to speak loudly. They’re here to say what’s forgotten. What’s buried. What’s waiting. They hold a frequency most won’t hear. But those who do—never forget it.