A hurt that wants steadiness and slow time pulls at one end of you, and straight across an urge to break loose and change everything by morning. Chiron and Uranus face across the axis, each defining the other: the wound asks for patience, the urge to rupture keeps yanking you straight back out of it. Some days you stage an upheaval to keep from feeling the ache underneath. Some days the hurt freezes you in place while the whole world keeps moving past. One charge, two ends. Bolting into constant change does not outrun the ache, it just drags it along; the wound and the lightning have to keep colliding, again and again, with no clean escape from either.