An original oil painting by Sandra Jane, created with professional-quality oil paints on stretched canvas.
Medium: Oil on canvas Year: 2025 Dimensions: 40 × 50 cm (unframed)
And the Angel spoke, not with wings of fire but still, and full of knowing, A light without heat You are older than time, older than the first name spoken, woven into the fabric of creation with hands shaping night and dawn, and breath giving life to the stars And when silence does surround you and names are forgotten, you shall be carried, not through flesh, but in spirit for the Wairua does not shout, it listens, it guides and it burns softly within like coals beneath ash And then the Angel waited And again, did speak Look behind you not with eyes, but with the breath of memory For your blood is not only yours, but the skin of mountain and tide, the flow of the river, the sacred patterns woven inside You are the echoes of ancient hands lifted in prayer, of tears spilled into sacred soil and of the Hope spoken in darkness And so within that great light of dawn, the Angel again did say Remember those who have walked before you and of those still to come, share your story of the greater garment, of the love for those that have returned to the stars where their breath becomes wind and all memory becomes prayer.
This original artwork has been sold and is no longer available. Please get in touch if you are interested in similar works or would like to enquire about future paintings.
Click image to view full size.
An original oil painting by Sandra Jane, created with professional-quality oil paints on stretched canvas.
Medium: Oil on canvas Year: 2025 Dimensions: 40 × 50 cm (unframed)
And the Angel spoke, not with wings of fire but still, and full of knowing, A light without heat You are older than time, older than the first name spoken, woven into the fabric of creation with hands shaping night and dawn, and breath giving life to the stars And when silence does surround you and names are forgotten, you shall be carried, not through flesh, but in spirit for the Wairua does not shout, it listens, it guides and it burns softly within like coals beneath ash And then the Angel waited And again, did speak Look behind you not with eyes, but with the breath of memory For your blood is not only yours, but the skin of mountain and tide, the flow of the river, the sacred patterns woven inside You are the echoes of ancient hands lifted in prayer, of tears spilled into sacred soil and of the Hope spoken in darkness And so within that great light of dawn, the Angel again did say Remember those who have walked before you and of those still to come, share your story of the greater garment, of the love for those that have returned to the stars where their breath becomes wind and all memory becomes prayer.
This original artwork has been sold and is no longer available. Please get in touch if you are interested in similar works or would like to enquire about future paintings.
Image 1 of 1