The Priestess

. A face of carved serenity gazes at me, a woman that time has touched, but has not yet ravaged, a woman whose strength has not yet been diminished by grief. Her beauty lies in the calm stillness of her eyes, emanating an aura of peace and power, I am in awe.

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The Aeon

All that I have embraced and all that I have denied will stand behind me now, and I will arrive to answer my maker, naked, alone and lost in the sea of my dreams…..

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The Story of Art

From a place of purity and strength when all the dross has been stripped away, then in this place where death and life exist simultaneously then all potential is born, and understanding may be found.

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The Story of The Hanged Man

I am hanging upside down, in suspended animation, sacrificial inversion, call it what you will, but I am hanging upside down. All the fluid in my body has drained down into my head, which becomes to all intents and purposes, an alembic for some alchemical process

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The Story of The Hierophant

How vain and brave her dreams of pilgrimage seem now, and as she looks at the reality of the situation, down there on the ground, in the harsh grit beneath her boots, she begins to wonder if her vision is crumbling to desert dust beneath her aching feet. Looking up from the baked earth to scan the scene before her, she feels dejected, almost hoping that a bus with “Home” written on the front will come, motoring happily over the hill, and stop, facing in the opposite direction, to wait for her to climb thankfully aboard.

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