Between the windy, swirling fire
And all the stillness of the moon,
Sweet witch, you danced at my desire,
Turning some weird and lovely rune
To paces like the swirling fire...
..Upon the earth your paces wrought
A circle such as magians made...
And still some hidden thing you sought
With hands desirous, half afraid,
Beyond the ring your paces wrought...
...Your fingers, on the smoke and flame,
Moved in the mysterious conjuring;
You seemed to call a silent Name,
And lifted like an outstretched wing
Your somber gown against the flame."
Clark Ashton Smith 1893 –1961
Digital painting, made in procreate, 17 hours of work
PNG, 300 dpi, 5600x4000 px
