Why Are Empires Collapsing Now?
An Archetypal Understanding of the Age of Aquarius
Once upon a cosmic threshold, we entered a mythic reversal.
The world we inherited was built on the radiance of Leo. The era of golden crowns, silver screens, and emperors who wore charisma like armour. At the heart of this was the myth of the 'chosen one' — because every Leo, whether conscious of it or not, secretly believes this. That they were born to lead, to shine, to be singular in their significance. The generation born with Pluto in Leo (1937–1956) were the torchbearers of the 20th century's myth: That glory belongs to the few. That greatness must be televised. That power shines brightest in singular hands.
And for a time, it worked. Kingdoms rose. Nations rebuilt. Icons became gods. The world became a theatre where the loudest lights drew the most devotion.
But myth is never still.
As the precession of the equinoxes shifts us into the Age of Aquarius, we enter a new cosmic story. One that no longer centres the sun-king, but the constellation. No longer the egoic individual, but the hive mind. No longer charisma as sovereignty, but frequency as authority.
Aquarius demands decentralisation. It questions hierarchy, celebrity, and spectacle. It dismantles the stage and hands the microphone to the network. And as Pluto begins its long transit through Aquarius (2023–2043), we are already seeing the consequences:
The implosion of political empires built on cults of personality
The collapse of celebrity worship in favour of peer-led content
The exposure of leadership models rooted in dominance, not resonance
This is not just social evolution. It is mythic inversion. It is the polarity of Leo being humbled by its opposite sign.
In the Age of Pisces, we watched the glory of the Library of Alexandria burn to the ground. The Virgoan priestess be silenced, burned, and forgotten. The Age of Faith demanded sacrifice over science, submission over sovereignty. Virgo fell so that Pisces could dream.
Now, Leo falls so that Aquarius can organise.
We are living through the death of the Leo myth:
That some are born to rule.
That fame is earned through spectacle.
That leadership means standing above.
Aquarius rewrites this:
That truth circulates.
That power decentralises.
That brilliance belongs to the many.
This doesn’t mean Leo dies. It means Leo evolves.
Not into disappearance, but into service.
Not into silence, but into illumination without dominion.
The Leo that survives Aquarius is not the king, but the torch.
Not the throne, but the guiding light of each sovereign within the collective.
And who carries this flame into the future? The neurodivergent. The light-workers. The shadow workers. The ones who've been told they're 'abnormal'. The geniuses. The artists. The 'hyper-sensitives'. Those whose minds detect the rules and break them. Whose Aquarian bones hold the architecture of what comes next.
Let the empires fall.
Let the myths break.
Let the new constellations rise.
Because the 12 faces of God turn like the wheel of time, each face revealing a new mythology of creation. Man, in his limited mind, still cannot agree on one — and yet, through every turning, a new myth unravels.
In the Age of Scorpio, we can imagine a world steeped in Kemetian depth: duat, death, magic, sacred sexuality, and alchemical initiation. Perhaps the era ended when Moses split the sea — defying nature, the realm of Scorpio’s polarity: Taurus. And in that very act, ushering in the Age of Sagittarius — the epoch of prophets, truth-sayers, and wisdom traditions. Some divine. Some distorted. All part of the Great Story.
Now again, as the hand of time curves into Aquarius, we are witnessing a new mythology being born. One that binds us to celestial nations. One that recognises our origin as both alien and earthly. As beings reaching for the stars — not to escape, but to remember.
Because at the end of the day, these myths, these legends, these revelations…
They are all playing out in one place: the Mind of God.
And what a privilege — to be potent characters in His/Her divine imagination.
To live inside the Mind of God is to understand that there is no true 'other.' Every face we meet is a reflection in the prism of divine thought. Every soul, no matter how distant or unlike us, is another facet of the same vast consciousness playing out infinite possibilities.
In this view, separation becomes illusion. Identity becomes theatre. And conflict becomes a misunderstanding of unity. If all of creation is but the echo of one thought, then to harm another is to harm oneself. To love another is to awaken the part of God that remembers.
This is the true myth of Aquarius: not just a collective future, but a collective origin. One where we finally realise that we were never many minds — only one, dreaming in multiplicity, learning through contrast, and remembering through recognition.
And so, to live this myth consciously is to become a mirror for the sacred in all things. To see not just ourselves in the other, but the One behind the mask.
Because when the myth turns, so must we — from separateness to synthesis, from identity to essence, from I to We.
A myth is not what we tell.
It’s what we live.
And the myth has turned.
