Amaris

Hello, I’m Amaris — the heart behind @darkmoondamee.

(Amaris isn’t my real name, but a name I use to keep a bit of myself protected.)

This space is a quiet corner for words and reflections inspired by the Moon and the Earth.

Here I share:

🌕 short prayers and gentle reminders

🌿 quotes and poems about the Moon, nature, and stillness

🕯️ thoughts on rhythm, rest, and renewal

My writing is a way to honor the small sacred moments — the way moonlight touches the ground, the hush of trees at dawn, the steady breath of the world beneath our feet.

If you find peace in simple words and soft light, you’re welcome here. 🌾

I give thanks for what has been,

And release what must now fade.

In darkness, I plant new dreams,

And in memory, find my light.

The air feels charged - soft but strange, like the world is holding it's breath. The last leaves cling to the trees, the nights stretch a little longer, and the wind whispers the names of ancestors distant and near.

You start to feel the shift: candles burn lower, shadows linger, and something seems to hum beneath the quiet. The veil is thinning, thread by thread.

Now is time to tidy your altar, set out your offerings, write letters to those close to you, and let the scent of incense remind you that endings are just transformation in disguise.

The moon slips low behind the trees,

a silver coin in trembling leaves,

its light retreats, soft-footed, shy,

as if afraid to wake the sky.

The branches clutch her trailing glow,

their fingers dark, reluctant, slow—

they hold her whispers, thin as mist,

a promise kept, a farewell kissed.

Through pine and oak, her gleam is torn,

a ghost of gold the night has worn;

and though she hides, the air still knows

the hush that only moonlight sows.

So let her rest beneath the boughs,

where time itself forgets to rouse—

for even moons must take their turn

and I honor it with every

The wind has two faces. One rests upon the fields, breathing through tall grass like a secret that doesn’t need to be kept. It lingers in doorways, brushes the cheek, waits for something unnamed to begin.

Then comes the other— untamed, laughing, full of teeth. It climbs the mountains and tears at their crowns, tosses the sea into song and foam. It knows no master, and leaves no silence untouched.

The night opened her palms

and I fell through her fingers