There are frost-scapes in the night, illuminated under pearl moonlight.
Dark beneath an Autumn gate, remnants of the Summer wait.
The slumber of her seeds lay hidden,
cast they sink to worlds forbidden…
“I live between both the light and the dark. I have settled quietly into an illuminated dress made of fine dimensions and honourable presence. ‘Peace’ I say to the dying sun each end of day, ‘Salem’ I say to my home where the ‘King of Light” lays His kisses across my linen drawn windows.”
Have you heard of the Moon-people who live amongst their fidnemeds, or forest shrines?
The nemeds of the sacred groves, where Her ancient people pass through worlds unseen, forgotten to the unaided eye.
Where worlds upon worlds wrap in nature’s embrace and the mysteries of Her flowers reign over prophets and the Dream…
Big Horned Moon ; a very special and personal work depicting the soul-full fertility cycles I feel.