Oh, the possibilities!
In a sense prophesy, taking out of the darkness of all, darkness of the unseen, darkness of possibility, of limitlessness; bringing part of the unseen all, into the light of possibility, an empty belly, the crypt, the secret hidden. Treasure house, vaulted storeroom, empty… waiting to be filled by what night holds in promise. Prophetic, held in abeyance, till time is ripe, there, but not manifested. The full moon an image of the mother pregnant with possibility, rules primordial forces of creation found in disorder of darkness. The moon, the lesser light of night, wanting to shed light in darkness.
O the wonder a new sketch book! Go for it girl.

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