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Its Samhain. The line between the spirit world and our own is a ray of moonlight.by *Leurindal
Its the night when the reluctant soul sticks
to our plane, hovering - a withered rose whose beauty is the figment of a dream;
a gleam gilding the surface of the lake.
For long hours of idyll would the Lake
poets revel in letting their spirit soar free on the nightingales wings, and dream
of glimpsing their Muse clad in pure moonlight
but tonight magics afoot: clouds just rose to blu
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
You have added a club image to your faves, could you please remove the club image from your faves and visit the original piece to fave and comment. You will find the link to the original in the artists comments of the clubs image
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Thank you in advance PLEASE DO NOT FAVE CLUB IMAGES, fave the originals
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Fighting For Respect For And Promoting Nude and Fetish Artists
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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