The scorching Earth in a way is womanly. The rivers run through the land like blood running through veins.

The future is murky and prepares itself for destruction. In the dark abyss an explosion creates forms of life. The silent moment broken by cries, a desire to live ruminates through the universe. The birthing of existence is feminine, and powerful. The dying land begs to be reborn and parishes in the withering heat, yet our humanity still lives on like a rose through the thrones. Children learn from their mothers, partners learn from their wives, and daughters imitate their mothers. There’s a beauty in it, the feminine creation and destruction of life that circles throughout us continuously