Flames of love lick at the drabness and drear, at the dross of life and transform them by consuming them with fire. Beauty arises from the ashes, just as a smile lights up and transforms a wrinkled, weary face. Bow to the beauty and the sacredness of all things. This is transfiguration, shining light into the darkness not to illuminate it, but to redeem it.
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018