Masque of the inner temple

Deep within, where the silent bell tones, when comes the twins joy and excitement..the brothers pain and darkness. Lofty peaks and deep empty caverns both roam and share. From that place random images, infinite...scratch, splatter, like ice and air. Sometimes, once in the long whilst, an impression remains, long enough for tissue and sinew to trace, scrawl and place outside.  In pencil and on paper.   

 Here is one.