The Circle of Light Three women stand where twilight breathes, Their robes of dusk and dawn entwined. Between their hands, a gentle fire — a spark of life, serene, divine. The glow they hold is more than flame, It is the pulse of all that’s known: the laughter born, the tears reclaimed, the seed of earth, the spirit’s home. Their halos hum like suns reborn. Their shadows weave through violet skies. They are the dream before the day, the mothers of all lullabies. No crown of gold, no earthly claim — just light and love in sacred tone. For in their palms the universe turns, and every soul remembers home. 🎨 Artist & narrator: Elvis Becker