Inside an ancient wooden shrine, icons, candles, memorials line the wall. Colored glass filters the light into color: red, yellow, violet. Smoke drifts up strangely. It's path is meandering, as if trying to mirror the irregular shapes and edges of sacred frames and objects scattered about the area. The lady, in black and dark colors, coppery hair tied back, sits and prays. Outside the storm clouds gather and rain upon a rich dark and scented earth, fertile and strong.
Outside the sun hangs just below the horizon, setting a tint to the rim of the heavens. pale yellow. The sky appears as one hanging cloud, but it is just the drained and dull hue of light dawn. The clear quartz ground is pure, cold, lifeless. A creek runs rapidly over the stone as cool wet crystal all its own. It reflects the pale transparency of earth and sky. The man, in finest white naval uniform and grey eyed, kneels beside the water and bids farewell. All is cool and stoic.