Every strongman knows when the spell is breaking. The crowd turns, the myth frays, and that’s always when the escalation begins. They don’t loosen; they lash out. They don’t retreat; they double down. It’s the same script, the same finale.

Hitler, cornered and unraveling, hurled his exhausted army into the Ardennes in a last-ditch gamble. Mussolini, with Italy starving, dragged his people into a humiliating invasion of Greece. Saddam Hussein, facing unrest at home, lunged at Iran and later Kuwait, lighting the fuse of his own destruction. Gaddafi, besieged by revolt, vowed to hunt his own citizens “like rats” until the mob dragged him into the dust.

Different continents, different decades, but the same ending: when power slips, dictators don’t soften - they scorch the earth on the way out.

And that’s what Trump is doing now. Escalating in mad panic because he knows the walls are closing in and time is running out. His grip is slipping, his approval rating is underwater, and even his base is splintering - just last week, stalwarts like Tucker Carlson, Karl Rove, and Ted Cruz spoke out against his attacks on free speech. Six months ago, that would have been unthinkable.

This isn’t a man consolidating power. It’s a man cornered by it. What we’re watching is the late-stage dictator’s death rattle: louder threats, wilder moves, deeper cruelty. It looks like power, but it’s panic. It looks like dominance, but it’s desperation.

History writes the authoritarian’s ending the same way every time. Mussolini in the square. Hitler in the bunker. Saddam in the dirt. Gaddafi in the dust. The mask slips, the curtain falls, and the sky itself tells the story with four forces:

Pluto strips the illusion of invincibility.

Uranus shocks, rebellion erupts, the throne cracks.

Saturn brings the wall, authority collides with its limit.

Neptune dissolves the myth until nothing remains but ruin.

And always, the karmic markers - the Nodes & Chiron - reveal the reckoning no tyrant can escape. The geometry of collapse.

Those same signatures marked the charts of Hitler, Mussolini, Saddam, and Gaddafi at the hour of their demise. If any of these men had visited an astrologer in the months before their demise, they would have been told clearly: your time is up.

And if Donald Trump sat across from an astrologer today, he’d hear the very same words.

In February 2026, his chart ignites with the same geometry. Pluto drags shadows to the surface. Uranus destabilizes his very persona. Saturn, pierced by Chiron, shatters his authority as Neptune meets Saturn at the top of America’s chart, dissolving the myth of his rule. The fog clears, the spell breaks, rebellion jolts awake, and Jupiter charges the nation’s identity with fire.

The geometry of collapse is coming for America’s wannabe king.

The journey to that collapse will be brutal. These next months will not be easy. They will likely be horrific. And even Trump’s downfall will not end the trouble, but it will break the dam. His demise will rip the cover off years of rot and rage, leaving a vacuum that chaos and factions will rush to fill.

In the aftermath, America will look like a cracked mirror: everyone seeing something different in the shards. Some will claw for his throne, others will tear at the idea of it. Lawlessness will creep at the edges. Trust in the old rules will vanish.

This is the Saturn–Neptune era: authority washed away, myths dissolving, a nation stumbling through fog. Confusing. Dangerous. Exhausting. But clarifying. A people once living inside an illusion will learn to live without it.

And slowly, chaos will become a forge. Out of rubble, unexpected leaders will rise. Communities will knit together. Experiments will replace decrees. The old myth will die with Trump, but in its place a harder, truer, less naïve vision will take root.

It won’t be clean. It won’t be quick. The next five years will be a reckoning. But from the smoke of ruin, a country more awake and less easily seduced will begin to rise.

For now, we must navigate the noisy collapse. Fear brought us here, but there is only one road out of hell, and that road is paved with love. 

Holocaust survivor Faigie Libman reminds us, “When you have hatred in your heart, there is no room for love.”Viktor Frankl, who endured Auschwitz, teaches: “The last of one’s freedoms is to choose one’s attitude in any given circumstance.” Together they show us the way: fear destroys, but love endures.

May we meet the darkness of hatred and cruelty with the light of such astonishing love that nothing else can stand.