Also after finishing the painting I asked my eldest son to do a piece of writing about it. He has an amazing way with words. Writing to him is like breathing, It comes naturally to him. So here it is. The colours of night.
Hung within the barren void, I rest inanimate in a pallid shell.
Till seams appear and rays pour through.
Torrents soak within my being, and grant colour where none resided.
As the rushes end and peace returns, the vision begins to form.
And there you lay, radiant , omniscient - as my lunar guardian.