Musings on Progressed Moon Conjunct Natal Pluto

Been here before, 27.3 years ago to be precise.
It's scorched earth, it's blackened ice.
It's death a fortnight before First House rebirth.
It's questioning how much I'm really worth.
Of course, history rhymes instead of repeats;
There are different desires, different defeats.
January '94, grad school dropout, PTSD...
Now middle-aged, overweight, is this really me?
Back then I was mainly driven by art;
Now I'm gainfully employed with a broken heart.
Is a stormy connection better than being alone?
I scroll through opinions on my smartphone.
It's been six months since we fled the city;
It's some sort of magic that's not always pretty.
Somehow we dodged the bullet known as Covid-19;
In six weeks we are safe to make some sort of scene.
But first I must rise from my own ashes
And dry my tear-spiked eyelashes.