If Saturn is the wall, Jupiter the open door, and Uranus the lightning bolt that shatters both, then Neptune is the mist that dissolves all boundaries entirely. Neptune does not knock, does not wait, does not even enter. Neptune seeps, like perfume through a curtain, like water through sand, like a dream that slips past the sentinel of the waking mind and occupies the soul without permission. This is the planet of transcendence, of fantasy, of the longing that cannot be named because it belongs to no object but to the infinite itself. In the astrology of desire, Neptune governs the hungers that are spiritual in origin, the eroticism that seeks not a body but a merging with the divine, and the exquisite, sometimes devastating, capacity to fall in love with an image rather than a person.