Moon Tears (Patreon)

Good evening my dears! I hope you are doing well tonight! Up for download and viewing is a digital piece I call " Moon Tears " 

This particular piece was part of an experiment with some new filters and edits to create a work with a little more flow and divided depth. Part of the growing pains with trying some new software, and it is my earnest hope that it gets your approval! 

I've also included a base, unedited version of the picture as well. :)

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 As I sat away in my chambers of an ashen air, I quieted my thoughts and  tucked my crackling heart away on an open shelf. I had lost faith in  myself..and given in to a cold night. How could I create anything of  worth that could be loved? How could I nurture any potential in me when I  hated myself?
 

So the serpent came to me from the reflection of the moon on the windowsill light.
 

" I watch of your twistings, your anger and punishment. There is an  illness in your heart. A malform in your dreams. It shadows your  desires, blankets your wants and whims with the prejudice of a notion  taken too far. "
 

It slithered on the air as smoke, and crept on my shoulders like a weight of some terrible stone.
 

" You feel alone with it. This presence, as if you are the only one. As  if all that you covet and dream could only be defiled by you. We make  poor effigies of ourselves...criminal lies of our character. We follow  tangents and musings on the worst in us, and desperately shun any shred  of modest good, any meek worth. "
 

I could cry on my knees, that terrible weight on me.
 

" You craft these beliefs, these lies of how undeserving you are.  Oblivion is easy, to exist is to be cunning. Yet even when you were  children, your hearts compelled you. Some part of you, even a splinter  of truth knew the art of play, and passion to do as you pleased. "
 

Tears fell from its eyes in a crimson drop, falling through the air to gather in a queer sphere.
 

" A child had no preoccupation to decide what playing means. Only that  they enjoy themselves. Yet it leaves them over the years. Forgotten.  Meaning then must be exhausted on each and every moment, and every  meaning have a purpose. The way you things grow...you leave no more room  in you for joy. All you seem to keep are damning notions you must be  great or un-exist..."
 

" You compete far too much with the world and yourselves. And make all  matters of the small or substantial a thing to be consumed or exchanged.  You think far too greatly on the utility of life than to just live it.  "
 

" Then what would you have me do?! What can I possibly do?! "
 

I cried out.
 

"...Dream again...you sad child...learn to play and dream again... "