Devotion to Σελαναια
Oh my night residing goddess, hear my words and accept them with grace.
When she appears, her glow drags such agonizing euphoria from me. My eyes squint and scrunch and I’m blinded, my smile tears open my cheek like a Glasgow smile. Her beauty hurts and strikes me frozen to the ground. I stare in awe and horror. My own little live portrait of god.1
Her comfort doesn’t radiate in warmth, yet it cools and stills. Frozen still with her all encompassing cradle. Like an evening breeze on a summer day, sparky and biting yet gracious nonetheless. The calm before the storm.
“I want to go home.” I states as I laze in bed. / “I want, to go home..” I whispered in a daze as the urge for permanent rest monopolized my system. / “I want to go home!” I screamed at the cloudy night sky, watching the stars twinkle and taunt as my pent-up anguish drained from my body. / “Then come home my child.” There was an empty pause. Blank, discorporate, but oddly enough, a relief with the bright chilly light being shown down on me. Then they spoke again. / “You are always welcome home, my star child.”
Her embrace is brisk, you feel her light bind around you softly with a whistling chill. Mistaken for her archer of a counterpart, Selene, Titaness mother of the moon and divine feminine holds you with icy fingertips as your rage falls to a low simmer. Just enough to keep you going.
“I see your anger my child, let it blow away with the clouds. Let your turmoil crumble apart and reform when you should need it like the stars who fall to fusion and fission in the great sky. You are strong and resilient. This fury will not destroy you, your loneliness will not consume the true you. I see you my child. You will not hurt forever.”
You are so perfectly imperfect. Like the moon. Your scars may show, but you let them. You show different sides of yourself each time I see you. You have days where you hide away from the light and rest in darkness. Alas, I welcome and admire you from afar. You are my moon, so perfect and imperfect. I love you.
A digital offering to my patron goddess. blessed be.
words from the graveyard’s caretaker, Kaine
Portrait of God mini movie. best thriller under ten minutes