We dream of space travel to distant planets, of the stars, all the while forgetting that the stuff that makes the stars, that makes the universe, makes us too.
A copy writer questions his role in the system after seeing the head of Brân the Blessed mouthing silent words at him over Tower Hill. (From Lorna Smithers)
From Rhyd Wildermuth
Something is coming and we will be ready.
From Tahni J. Nikitins
From Ramon Elani
Druidly Love, From Judith O'Grady
An Imbolc meditation from Rhyd Wildermuth