a shell by day
a man of flesh and blood
by candlelight
against the world by day
arriving home
in love with life by night
a love arrives
for your vespertine heart
endless night
Poetry | Stories | Photography
a shell by day
a man of flesh and blood
by candlelight
against the world by day
arriving home
in love with life by night
a love arrives
for your vespertine heart
endless night
The waning fire smoulders
They gather in the distance
voices from another time
deep shapes move towards the fire
shapeshifting metamorphoses
gather strength outside the circle
waves of gooseflesh stir the spirit
light and drums beat in the distance
from the cursed forest cathedral
The forest is near
a deepening of onyx
The moonlit shadows
a vision of the wild sea
The house lights are my lighthouse
She left the laundry on the clothesline until 9 pm, giving herself an excuse to go outside and look up at the moon.
Standing there watching the sky.
The moon appears among clouds like the moon from her memory, evoking feelings of a new beginning or ending.
The forest listens for the vibrations of music;
soon, the time will pass, and she will come.
The music of her love for them starts to play;
sad faces brighten as feet touch the soil.
The dancing to honour the forest and her loves;
she spins and twirls with the Fireflies tonight.
The trees never stir as the fire burns along;
they stand tall, watching and listening.
In the Winter dark of night
Standing alone under the starless sky
Insignificant in other’s minds
A sense of longing taunts my thoughts
hoping it will crush me and mine
I let the taunts try as the stars appear
Significant to the spirit within my shell
embracing the way the leaves fall
Winds blow around me, for I am home
The forest spirit asks, “What do you want the most?”
The child stands on tippy-toes, “I want to snatch at the stars and play with them.”
Gently, the forest spirit asks, “Why?”
“If I play with the stars, I might get stardust to help someone…”.
“Someone?”
“Yes.”
“My Bear.”

While watching snow upon a branch, the forest spirit turns to see a familiar sight. “Hello, lover of a bear. Why do you carry a pot?”
“Hello! I took your advice and found something to carry the stardust in.”
With a smiling voice, the forest spirit says, “Come along then, let’s find you some stars to snatch and play with”.
Leaving only one set of footprints in the snow, the forest spirit and the girl walk further into the forest.

“Where are we going?”
Without looking down at the girl, the forest spirit says, “We won’t be going too far.”
“Bear will be cross if we travel too far… oh, look! Snow carpet!.”
Jovially, the forest spirit says, “Snow carpet? That’s a new one.”
“Bear would love it.”

A Bullfinch sings. The forest spirit turns and smiles.
Watching the forest spirit and the bird, the girl unwittingly says, “What does he say…”
“How do you know we are speaking?”
“I feel it.”
“…The Bullfinch speaks of a blizzard.’
“Mum says they’re like a cyclone.”
“Your Mum misses home.”

“Come, let’s find some stardust before it gets dark.”
Thinking of rolling and tumbling, the little girl says, “The snow is like powder here!”
Thinking about how much the girl has made her smile, the forest spirit dives into the snow; the little girl follows.”

The forest spirit says, “We must go! Snow will start falling soon.”
Getting to her feet, they restart the journey.
Along the path, they see a Troll sitting in the forest.
“Should we go and address him? He looks sad.”
“Trolls are troublesome. Come, I will take your pot.”

“I think we won’t get you back home before dark. Stardust is hard to find.”
Weary from walking, the girl says, “I would like rest. It is bitterly cold now.”
“Perhaps the church will be a good place to stop…”
“Churches are scary. I haven’t been since my Bear took me in.”
Wryly, the forest spirit says, “This church is not scary. You’ll see. Take my arm.”

Theodore Kittelsen, Church in the Snow, 1907
The forest spirit and the girl stand side by side in silence.
They do not speak, for this is a rare and lovely night.
Nostalgic and full of love, the forest spirit touches the pot as stardust falls from the stars for her only friend’s Bear.

Theodore Kittelsen, A Nordic Fever
The forest spirit thinks about the years she walked alone, placing one foot in front of the other. An imagined sorrow clouds her mind.
Then, out of the dark, the girl says, “Do you want to come home and meet Bear?”
Unaware of her smile, she says, “I’d love to.”

Theodore Kittelsen, Sorgen/the woe, 1894-95
Before the forest spirit and the girl leave, they take turns counting the stars.
Excited, the girl says, “I want to pick a star for you.”
Not sure what to say, the forest spirit watches and waits for the girl to choose the star.
“That one! That’s your star!”
“What a star this is! I will place it in my crown and keep it with me always”.

You look to the moon,
The moon looks to you,
In reflections of beauty
Moon rays
move from
brittle light,
so bright,
to teal,
to black.
Illuminating the
clear night,
so bright,
full of light,
tonight.

Beautifully broken souls,
beating hearts of the night.
Spirits begin to rise and fall,
the Souls burn blue so bright.
Within the midnight calm,
Forgetting in moonlight quiet.
We cherish the moonlit night,
wishing for love and kindness.