A woman stands in a circle of stones,holding a billowing veil in her arms. Two great trees guard the entrance to the clearing,one silvery white,the other cast in darkness. The crescent moon rises behind her,horns upturned like a vessel to catch the flowing Milky Way. Her shadow winds along the ground,revealing itself to be horned like the moon. The High Priestess stands in solitude and silence. Her secrets are not readily accessible to the rational mind. Rather,she speaks to us through dreams and flashes of insight.