The Woman Who Speaks to the Moon

She stands where silence meets the sky,
draped in the breath of midnight hues.
The water holds her secret shape,
a mirror of what once was true.
Her shawl—woven with the hands of time—
glows faintly like a prayer reborn.
Each thread remembers songs of earth,
each bead, the echo of the dawn.
The moon leans close to hear her heart,
Its silver tears fall on the lake.
Between her and the trembling stars,
the old ones stir, the spirits wake.
She does not speak in mortal tongue,
yet mountains listen when she dreams.
For she is keeper of the still,
and through her, night remembers gleam.
In her shadow, the world grows quiet—
The forest bows, the rivers sigh.
For she is not just a woman standing,
but memory walking through the sky.

Poem and Painting by Elvis Becker

WOMAN OF NIGHTFALL

She stands where the river drinks the moon,
where sky unrolls its trembling green —
a Native daughter carved in quiet,
strong the way still water is strong.

A raven cuts the northern light,
its wings like an old prophecy —
remember, remember,
it seems to say.

She does not kneel before the world,
she listens to it —
to ancestors folded in aurora silk,
to name the wind still pronounces.

Her silence is not absence —
It is a vow held between ribs:
that her people will not fade
while even one woman remains
to face the night
without closing her eyes.

Artist and narrator: Elvis Becker

DAUGHTERS OF THE MOON

They stand beneath the breathing moon —
one older, one still growing —
their faces lifted to the light
as if listening to a song
Only the ancestors can hear.

Feathers sleep inside their braids,
like promises from another time,
while the stars burn low and steady
The way truth always has.

The elder carries the memory —
the younger carries the future —
and between them, in the silent space,
lives every woman
whoever held a nation upright
with nothing but love,
and the unbroken will
to remain.

Artist and narrator: Elvis Becker

Ruth went into the field of Boaz to pick the gleanings after it had been reaped (Ruth 2:3). She sought the leftovers from those reaping, but what she found was so much more - her redeemer himself. Boaz, for Ruth, was a type of Christ; he represented the one who saves us.

Likewise, we should be going out into our Redeemer’s field, not to reap what is left behind, but to bring in His bounty. Jesus informed His disciples, “lift up your eyes and look on the fields, that they are white for harvest” (Jn. 4:35). This He spoke regarding those whose hearts were prepared to receive the gospel, as He continued, “already he who reaps is receiving wages and gathering fruit for life eternal” (Jn. 4:36).

Ruth did not sow, but she received of the harvest, and also received redemption. So too, we who have received redemption should be going out to harvest that which we did not sow (Jn. 4:37-38).

Brethren, are you working to harvest the Lord’s field? Or even to reap the gleanings? If not, why not? Are you ashamed of the gospel? Is it not God’s power for salvation? (Rom. 1:16) Did not God choose “the foolishness of the message preached to save those who believe” (1 Cor. 1:21)?

Let us then, as His workers, work to bring in His harvest as He commanded those who would follow (Mt. 28:18-20).

——————
Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening Devotions

Evening, October 25

"She gleaned in the field after the reapers: and her hap was to light on a part of the field belonging unto Boaz, who was of the kindred of Elimelech." Ruth 2:3

Her hap was. Yes, it seemed nothing but an accident, but how divinely was it overruled! Ruth had gone forth with her mother's blessing, under the care of her mother's God, to humble but honourable toil, and the providence of God was guiding her every step. Little did she know that amid the sheaves she would find a husband, that he should make her the joint owner of all those broad acres, and that she a poor foreigner should become one of the progenitors of the great Messiah. God is very good to those who trust in Him, and often surprises them with unlooked for blessings. Little do we know what may happen to us tomorrow, but this sweet fact may cheer us, that no good thing shall be withheld. Chance is banished from the faith of Christians, for they see the hand of God in everything. The trivial events of today or tomorrow may involve consequences of the highest importance. O Lord, deal as graciously with Thy servants as Thou didst with Ruth.

How blessed would it be, if, in wandering in the field of meditation tonight, our hap should be to light upon the place where our next Kinsman will reveal Himself to us! O Spirit of God, guide us to Him. We would sooner glean in His field than bear away the whole harvest from any other. O for the footsteps of His flock, which may conduct us to the green pastures where He dwells! This is a weary world when Jesus is away- we could better do without sun and moon that without Him- but how divinely fair all things become in the glory of His presence! Our souls know the virtue which dwells in Jesus, and can never be content without Him. We will wait in prayer this night until our hap shall be to light on a part of the field belonging to Jesus wherein He will manifest Himself to us.

READ GENESIS. NO ONE IS GOING TO THE MOON, WAKE UP.

Sisters of the Snow Moon

(A Song for the Ones Who Walk Together)

We walk beneath the silver moon,
Three hearts, one silent tune.
The snow may fall, the wind may cry,
But never alone do we walk the sky.

Our braids are woven with whispered prayers,
Feathers gifted from midnight airs.
We carry the stories of women before,
Their footsteps echo on frozen shore.

When one of us falters, the others stand tall—
A circle unbroken, we rise through it all.
When sorrow weighs heavy, and words fall apart,
A sister will hold you, heart to heart.

Not born of blood, but born of soul,
We gather each other and make each one whole.
In laughter, in tears, in the stillness between,
We are the light that the cold cannot screen.

And when the long night asks who we are—
We answer in song, like the northern star.
“We are the ones who do not flee,
For love walks stronger when it walks in three

Art by Serin Alar

Feathers of the Dawn

She stands where silence breathes,
wrapped in the colors of the sky—
a cloak woven with memories
of rivers, winds, and whispered prayers.

Feathers drift around her
like thoughts of those who came before,
each one carrying a message—
“Walk gently, daughter of the sun.”

The moon behind her
glows not with distance,
but with remembrance—
It has seen her soul in another lifetime,
dancing between stars and earth.

She does not speak.
Her stillness is a song,
her gaze, a bridge between worlds.

Even the wind pauses,
bowing to the quiet strength
of a spirit that remembers who it is.

Artist and the storyteller: Elvis Becker

Under the Mother Moon

The night hums with the song of beginnings,
soft as the heartbeat beneath the stars.
Life returns to life,
a circle unbroken, eternal in its grace.

The Great Spirit breathes through her silence,
and the wind carries her prayer of love.
In her arms rests tomorrow—
fragile, sacred, whole.

From her strength, the world remembers,
that gentleness is the oldest power,
and love—
The first language ever spoken.

The demons ALWAYS tell us in their "movies" and "books" what they are and have been doing to We The People. Thank you, Tom.

KNOTS LANDING...A "BLAST" FROM THE PAST... MORE THAN YOU KNOW
A "MODEL COMMUNITY" WHERE THE NEIGHBORS PRUNE THEIR ROSES ABOVE GROUND, BUT THE EVIL SCIENTISTS STRUT THEIR STUFF UNDERGROUND.......!!!!

https://tommoonclutch.substack.com/p/knots-landinga-blast-from-the-past

Where the Water Remembers

She listens to the songs beneath the surface,
where time moves slower than breath.
Each ripple carries a story home,
each petal drifts with the weight of prayer.

The moon speaks in circles,
teaching her that endings are beginnings in disguise.
She does not ask for answers—
She becomes the stillness that holds them.

In the quiet between heartbeats,
the river knows her name,
and the night opens—
like memory returning to its source.

Another thing, Look at the back of an Apple Phone.....REMEMBER the demons ALWAYS play show and tell.....
Thank you Tom, a great article.

APPLE HEADQUARTERS REPRESENTS GIANT DEATH OF THE OVARY...???
https://tommoonclutch.substack.com/p/apple-headquarters-represents-giant?publication_id=2233690&post_id=175195882&isFreemail=true&r=1maoyr&triedRedirect=true&utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email

Walking Toward the Moon

She walks on snow-soft earth,
wrapped in songs of ancestors,
her steps echo like prayers,
her silence heavy with longing.

The moon waits in stillness,
a guardian of hidden hearts,
Its light touches her spirit,
like a hand across generations.

She carries stories untold,
woven with rivers and winds,
dreams of comfort and kin,
rising with every breath.

“O moon, hear my soul,”
she whispers through the night,
“Be the one who listens,
when the earth grows quiet.”

Serin Alar

Daughter of the Moon

She speaks in whispers the stars can hear,
where silence folds around her breath.
The night listens—not to words,
but to the truth that lives between them.

Her heart is an old drum,
beating with the rhythm of forgotten prayers.
She gathers the echoes of lost voices
and turns them into light.

The earth remembers her footsteps,
The sky carries her song.
For she walks not to reach a place—
But to remind the world it still has a soul.

Feathers of the Moon

The night teaches silence,
and in that silence,
a thousand voices rise.

Feathers drift like prayers,
carrying the weight of remembrance,
yet falling as lightly as hope.

The moon gathers them all,
each a heartbeat of the ancestors,
each a promise that nothing is lost
when carried by spirit.

Between breath and stillness,
we learn the oldest truth:
that every step of the people
is lifted by wings unseen,
guiding us back to the circle of light.

Psalms
Chapter 148

1 Praise ye the LORD. Praise ye the LORD from the heavens: praise him in the heights.

2 Praise ye him, all his angels: praise ye him, all his hosts.

3 Praise ye him, sun and moon: praise him, all ye stars of light.

4 Praise him, ye heavens of heavens, and ye waters that be above the heavens.

5 Let them praise the name of the LORD: for he commanded, and they were created.

6 He hath also stablished them for ever and ever: he hath made a decree which shall not pass.

7 Praise the LORD from the earth, ye dragons, and all deeps:

8 Fire, and hail; snow, and vapour; stormy wind fulfilling his word:

9 Mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, and all cedars:

10 Beasts, and all cattle; creeping things, and flying fowl:

11 Kings of the earth, and all people; princes, and all judges of the earth:

12 Both young men, and maidens; old men, and children:

13 Let them praise the name of the LORD: for his name alone is excellent; his glory is above the earth and heaven.

14 He also exalteth the horn of his people, the praise of all his saints; even of the children of Israel, a people near unto him. Praise ye the LORD.

Under the Moon of Her Heart

In shades of blue, where silence sings,
A mother folds the world in wings.
Her child sleeps close, the stars align—
Two spirits bound in breath divine.

The moon behind, a sacred flame,
Recalls the place from which they came.
The blanket hums in a woven tone,
Of prayers the ancestors have sewn.

Her braid—a river, calm and deep,
Carries songs the elders keep.
And in her arms, the earth is whole—
A sacred drum, a beating soul.

A Super Harvest Moon crosses the zenith tonight with the planets Saturn and Neptune in the constellation Pisces, the first full moon following the September 22nd autumnal equinox.

https://earthsky.org/astronomy-essentials/harvest-moon-2/

#SuperHarvestMoon #HarvestMoon #HarvestSupermoon #Supermoon2025 #Supermoon #Moon #FallingLeavesMoon #Autumn #Equinox #Perigee #NightSky #Astronomy

Sisters by the Fire

Beneath the moon’s silver gaze,
We gather close, wrapped in warmth,
The fire painting our faces in gold.

Our voices rise in quiet laughter,
our hearts speak in silence,
Sisterhood needs no words.

The flames crackle like stories of old,
whispers of mothers, of grandmothers,
woven through the smoke that lifts to the stars.

On these nights,
the world feels whole,
and the bond between us stronger
than the mountains, than the rivers,
than time itself.

Oh, how precious the firelight—
but more, the glow within us,
that will never fade.

Serin Alar

Whispers of the Ancestors

Beneath the silver moon’s embrace,
Two souls walk where rivers trace.
Wrapped in colors, stories told,
Patterns woven from days of old.

Feathers sway with sacred song,
Echoes of ancestors guide them along.
The water shines with spirit’s glow,
Carrying wisdom the elders know.

In silence deep, the night is kind,
The past and present intertwine.
Each step they take, the circle near,
The voice of the ancestors whispers clear.

Artist and the storyteller: Elvis Becker

Believer, there will come a day when “the stars of heaven and their constellations will not flash forth their light; the sun will be dark when it rises and the moon will not shed its light” (Isa. 13:10). This is the day of the Lord, when He returns in anger to “punish the world for its evil and the wicked for their iniquity” (Isa. 13:11). What an interesting picture that those who walk in darkness now will be in literal darkness then.

Yet we are told that after, we will have no need of these celestial bodies to provide us light. There “will no longer be any night” and we “will not have need of the light of a lamp nor the light of the sun, because the Lord God will illumine” us (Rev. 22:5). What glorious imagery! At that time, we will reign with Him forever (Rev. 4:5)!

Zechariah paints a similar picture, when he tells us, “In that day there will be no light; the luminaries will dwindle. For it will be a unique day which is known to the LORD, neither day nor night, but it will come about that at evening time there will be light” (Zech. 14:6-7).

We have a blessed future on which we focus and in which we have our hope. For we will be united with Him in glory, and be with Him forever. Let us make this our focus, as we keep in our minds that in that time of darkness, “at evening time there will be light.”

——————
Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening Devotions

Morning, October 4

"At evening time it shall be light." Zechariah 14:7

Oftentimes we look forward with forebodings to the time of old age, forgetful that at eventide it shall be light. To many saints, old age is the choicest season in their lives. A balmier air fans the mariner's cheek as he nears the shore of immortality, fewer waves ruffle his sea, quiet reigns, deep, still and solemn. From the altar of age the flashes of the fire of youth are gone, but the more real flame of earnest feeling remains. The pilgrims have reached the land Beulah, that happy country, whose days are as the days of heaven upon earth. Angels visit it, celestial gales blow over it, flowers of paradise grow in it, and the air is filled with seraphic music. Some dwell here for years, and others come to it but a few hours before their departure, but it is an Eden on earth. We may well long for the time when we shall recline in its shady groves and be satisfied with hope until the time of fruition comes. The setting sun seems larger than when aloft in the sky, and a splendour of glory tinges all the clouds which surround his going down. Pain breaks not the calm of the sweet twilight of age, for strength made perfect in weakness bears up with patience under it all. Ripe fruits of choice experience are gathered as the rare repast of life's evening, and the soul prepares itself for rest.
The Lord's people shall also enjoy light in the hour of death. Unbelief laments; the shadows fall, the night is coming, existence is ending. Ah no, crieth faith, the night is far spent, the true day is at hand. Light is come, the light of immortality, the light of a Father's countenance. Gather up thy feet in the bed, see the waiting bands of spirits! Angels waft thee away. Farewell, beloved one, thou art gone, thou wavest thine hand. Ah, now it is light. The pearly gates are open, the golden streets shine in the jasper light. We cover our eyes, but thou beholdest the unseen; adieu, brother, thou hast light at even-tide, such as we have not yet.

The Journey Beyond the Horizon

Beneath the silent moon,
three riders move as one—
shadows of fire,
shadows of dawn,
shadows of dreams not yet broken.

Their horses breathe the wind.
hooves striking sparks
on the path of ancient spirits,
each step echoing the songs
of ancestors watching from the stars.

Beyond the horizon lies the unknown.
But they do not fear it.
Their cloaks ripple like wings.
Their hearts are drums
beating with the earth’s eternal rhythm.

For they are seekers,
warriors of hope,
riders of freedom,
carrying the stories of their people
into a future yet unwritten.

Artist and storyteller: Elvis Becker

Whispers Beneath the Moon

Beneath the moon’s eternal light,
She walks the path between day and night.
With raven’s shadow, with eagle’s flight,
She guards the flame, the ancient rite.

The eagle soars, a voice of the sky,
Carrying dreams where spirits fly.
The raven calls through realms unseen,
Keeper of secrets, dark and keen.

Her braided hair, a river’s song,
Her heart where earth and stars belong.
Between the worlds, her spirit stands,
Holding balance in her hands.

O moon above, O night divine,
Guide her soul through sacred time.
For in her gaze, the past is near,
And the future speaks for all to hear.

Artist and storyteller: Elvis Becker

The Girl of the Sacred Forest

From the depths of the sacred woods,
Where the whispers of the ancients breathe,
She steps with the grace of the wind,
Her feathers glowing in the moon's light,
A spirit born from the soil of the earth,
Her soul, a dance of flames and light.

Her eyes reflect the stars above,
Her heart beats to the rhythm of the land,
She is the fire that burns within the trees,
A force of nature, wild and free.
In the silence of the night,
Her spirit sings of ancient times,
A song of strength, of life, of love,
From the sacred forest, she arrives.

Serin Alar

Do Not Fear, Brother Bear

Do not fear.
Brother of the Forest,
Your breath is the breath of mountains.
Your heart beats with the rivers.

I kneel before you.
palms open to the moon,
to say:
You are not alone.

When storms rise
and the sky cracks with thunder,
I will walk beside you.
When silence falls
and the night softens,
My spirit will rest near yours.

Do not fear the world’s sharp winds—
My song will be your shelter.
my fire, your warmth.

Whether in shadow
or in sunlight’s gentle hands,
We are bound—
two spirits,
one promise:
I will be here.

Velin Rael