Constantine P. Cavafy's poem "Waiting for the Barbarians" imagines the imminent arrival of an unpredictable agent of chaos. "The barbarians are coming today," declares the narrator. Everyone in town is uneasy. People's routines are in disarray. Faces look worried. What's going to happen? But the poem has a surprise ending. "It is night, and the barbarians haven't come," reports the narrator. "Some people have arrived from the frontier and say that there aren't any more barbarians." I propose that we use this scene as a metaphor for your life right now, Taurus. It's quite possible that the perceived threat isn't really a threat. So here's my question, taken from near the end of the poem: "What are we going to do now without the barbarians?"

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