In the long days and moments of her dream wandering, she will discover the Secret Place.
She moves at peace through angel snow and forested misty ether with her woman child knowing…
She comes with the hope of eternal sun, rustling leaf melody and the fragrant bloom of life dancing to cicada electric hum.
Her eyes of wandering reflect what she has known, what has always lived there, older than blood and stone.
The old house awaits her return. It moves and gives to her its powder sugar and cinnamon baked clapboard. Ancient fire from its stones transmitting a ghostly dance of soul wood into the dusky star mystery.
Her steps on entering through the forsaken door, has heard the cries of the child of December, always longing for warmth and love. The children of Summer sun with scent of burning honeysuckle who with their small bare feet run forever….are reverent and sure.
She knows her will creates the dream of her wandering. This house of secret refuge, like the man that awaits her return with calm fever, will hold the vision…sun bright on storm gilded wing, flying to all