The bardess looks at the skies as colored deep lavender with the doves whiter than the angels wings gliding by the breeze, the eclipse of a woman's soul is now unconcealed for the higher art of all things, she feels the tension, fall, and rise of the stories of now and the ones yet to be written, searching for messages and meanings that are as pieces of magic lingering as lighthouses in the shades of her.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 1:29 PM UTC
The bardess looks at the skies as colored deep lavender with the doves whiter than the angels wings gliding by the breeze, the eclipse of a woman's soul is now unconcealed for the higher art of all things, she feels the tension, fall, and rise of the stories of now and the ones yet to be written, searching for messages and meanings that are as pieces of magic lingering as lighthouses in the shades of her.
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