The dead will dance, cloaked in the dragons breath, under a blood moon tonight.
When the veil is thin and the fabric of the universe is shining through, you will hear their voices, almost touch their hands. ‘We are but shades’ they cry ‘Light and shadow in equal measure.’
The wind blowing through the sacred stones is full of whispers of the secrets of the mysteries.
Listen as they speak to you, listen well.
They will tell you that the running waters can even cleanse the blood of the dead.
The trees can heal your pain, the stars can give you hope and direction, the ravens in the branches knows your thoughts and your mind.
The flowers tell a story of the seasons, the rocks hold sacred spirals and imprints of memory. The earth can hold you in her arms and shelter you from harm.
The voices are quieter now, they are there always if you listen within…