Servant of the Moon
He was the oldest, and wildest of them. Through moonlit bracken he padded, seeking to be closer or was it further? From her
Servant of the Moon, he howls, his worship shattering the calm
He’s witnessed it all, since she first unfolded the night and scattered the stars
The remembrance darkens his heart, for as he gets older the days grow distant and only night is real
The only lightness comes carrying a basket of offerings
The fecklessness of her enchants him, draws him closer to her brightness, the sweet scent of wildflowers in her clutch intoxicate, the blood red of her cloak hypnotic
Lesser beasts dare not stray close to his wandering Little Red
so I do sometimes tell stories....
I created this mixed media piece awhile ago and finally was able to get good photo's (it was very hard to capture!) The front piece is print of my Into the Woods painting, melted wax, petals and papers. The writing in gold is from the above. The back of the canvas is a painting of the wolf , Its a deep canvas and can sit free like a shrine or hang. This is the only piece I've made in this shrine style, This Little Red seemed to call for a hidden wolf.
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