Sunset’s end does not signal the day’s final spectacle. Sweeping pines hint at illumination to come with filtered light muting scarlet hues. The lunar orb awakens nocturnal creatures, and promises a clear path for all in the presence of the Temagami moonrise.
Back to the Artwork pageSunset’s end does not signal the day’s final spectacle. Sweeping pines hint at illumination to come with filtered light muting scarlet hues. The lunar orb awakens nocturnal creatures, and promises a clear path for all in the presence of the Temagami moonrise.
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We are not alone in this forest of ever changing hues and varied depths of understanding. Images that challenge us sweep in on gentle breezes or forceful gusts, but the strength we absorb from others keeps us grounded. Reach up from the darkness, and be craddled in the branches of the forest’s light.
The calmness in the water of Lake of Two Rivers is interrupted by an approaching storm. The winds pick up with a sudden surge, wildlife seeks shelter in a frenzy of activity, and the skies open up with a burst of moisture. All around, the air is filled with a freshness that adds rich hues to the surrounding features. The raindrops on the branches descend slowly as if moved by unseen forces, and new life is spawned on the forest floor below. The calmness soon returns to the waters of Algonquin, and life begins again, after the storm.
A man weaves tales of this land through poetry and song. Senses are awakened by images of past glory, as well as those of immeasurable pain. Challenges are whispered, to all who will listen, from frail limbs and foreboding eyes. Chanie Wenjack’s secret path jolts us into uncomfortable realizations of historical disconnects, and untold misery on the tip of a Raven’s wing. Pearls of wisdom, spoken by a sister, seek a different world through truth and reconciliation. We are all connected to someone, as Gord is to Chanie. Follow the examples of those who came before us, and seek the strength to facilitate change. Let us dance for healing under the moonlight on ashes of love. All is possible with the promise and power of courage.
I hear the world differently than you. Visual cues present themselves, and guide me in ways unknown to most. I hear rustling leaves through oscillating shimmer, as they dance to an East wind’s command. The splash of a Northern Pike delights me, as ripples radiate then fade to still waters. A loon’s crimson eyes rise and fall in royal splendour, as its lonely call brushes my soul. Night falls as ashen shadows and azure skies cloak reflective silence. All who bear witness unite in my world. I am not alone in the presence of the night birch.
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