SN-1006

SN-1006, water erosion, open arms 24/7. abir, 28.

[weltenwellen]

Glennon Doyle, Untamed

[weltenwellen]

Louise Glück, from “Otis”, Poems 1962 - 2012

[godcon]

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[eliamatrell]

— WENDELL BERRY, “A Meeting.”

[librarycarrd-deactivated2022110]

[Text I.D. In a dream I meet / my dead friend, He has, / I know, gone long and far, / and yet he is the same / for the dead are changeless. / They grow no older. / It is I who have changed, / grown strange to what I was. / Yet I, the changed one, / ask: “How you been?” / He grins and looks at me. / “I been eating peaches / off some might fine trees.” /end text I.D.]

[jennamacaroni]

“Many of our nation’s citizens are afraid to embrace an ethics of compassion because it threatens their security. Brainwashed to believe that they can only be secure if they have more than the next person, they accumulate and still feel insecure because there is always someone who has accumulated more.”

— bell hooks, “all about love: new visions”

[soporificsedatives-deactivated2]

Andrés Cerpa, The Vault

[ouroborosmotifs]

most of the time everything sucks but when the sky is blanketed in dark blue-grey clouds after heavy raining and the sun starts to peek through the clouds so that the tops of trees glint pale green and every white structure is starkly, blindingly silhouetted against the sky i’m ok.

[ouroborosmotifs]

like this

[fr0gt4nk]

[rockets-obscure-omnibus]

The feminine urge to be the man my father never was

[sioltach]

this website lets you listen to the sounds of all different forests around the world 

[kafk-a]

Julian K. Jarboe, ‘First Contact, Communion’ from Everyone on the Moon Is Essential Personnel

[detailedart]

Moon with an inverted luminance layer. “Our eyes are quite incredible, but sometimes it's cool seeing what things could look like with superhuman vision. In this version the colors show how the composition changes where magma once flowed (the brighter regions).” By Andrew McCarthy.

[funneeb]

Good morning girls who cry at everything

[ytphobia-deactivated20210908]

arabic is the real language of love fuck french and italian

[ytphobia-deactivated20210908]

تزوّجتني رغم أنفَ القبيلةْ وسافرتْ معي رغم انف القبيلةْ

وأعطتنْي زينبَ وعُمَرْ رغم أنف القبيلةْ

وعندما كنتُ أسألُها : لماذا؟ كانت تأخُذُني كالطفل إلى صدرها وتُتَمْتِمْ لأنكَ انت قبيلتي

she married me, in spite of the tribe and she traveled with me, in spite of the tribe and she gave me zaynab and omar, in spite of the tribe

and when I used to ask her why she would take me, like a child, against her chest and say “because you are my tribe”

— nizar qabbani

افدي قمراً لاحعلينا وتلالأ ما احسنه رب تبارك وتعالى قد حل بروحي فتداعفت حياة واليوم نأى عني عزاً وجالاً ادعوه سراراً واناديه جهاراً ان ابدلي الصبوة طيفاً وخيالاً لو قطعني دهري لا زات انادي كي تخترق الحجب ويروين وصلاً لا مل من العشق لو مر قرون حاشاه مللاً بي حاشاي مللاً العاشق حوت وهوى العشق كبحر هل مل إذا ما سكن الحوب زلالاً؟

Yes! My soul will be sacrificed for you!  You are the full moon. You rise, and you shine.  Praised and glorified be God for that shine!  You invaded my soul, doubled my life.  Then, you left—with that noble pride of thine.  Today, I pray to you in secret, or  I shout out loud these mad love dreams of mine.  Life tears me to pieces, and still I shout:  Pierce through these veils! Let me drink your love’s wine!  Centuries of loving, and he’s never  bored with love. Never will his love decline.  My lover is a whale, and my desire  pure water—an ocean—with no end time.  Can a whale grow bored in a pure ocean?

— jalal ad-din muhammad rumi

I love you as if all hearts were a mirror of mine as if life were invented for my love I love you O how much I deleted from your lips built my heart into a road and a house hung it as a cloud over clouds and how I equated beauty with you and her fantasy sprout and how and how I love you the light in your eyes has withdrawn it has been flooded our hair like drifts of snow poured on your shoulders braided, tied or loose I feel time has melted in my eyelids solidified and tumbled like silence.

— adonis

Your eyes are two palm tree forests in early light, Or two balconies from which the moonlight recedes When they smile, your eyes, the vines put forth their leaves, And lights dance … like moons in a river Rippled by the blade of an oar at break of day; As if stars were throbbing in the depths of them … And they drown in a mist of sorrow translucent Like the sea stroked by the hand of nightfall; The warmth of winter is in it, the shudder of autumn, And death and birth, darkness and light; A sobbing flares up to tremble in my soul And a savage elation embracing the sky, Frenzy of a child frightened by the moon. It is as if archways of mist drank the clouds And drop by drop dissolved in the rain … As if children snickered in the vineyard bowers, The song of the rain Rippled the silence of birds in the trees … Drop, drop, the rain Drip Drop the rain

— badr shakir al-sayyab 

[pigmenting]

there’s a whole lot of life left to live. a lot more art to make. a lot more love to give. a lot more oceans to see.

[sacredstem]

Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. I’m in the winter of my life. Please leave a message after the beep

[soracities]

“Here’s the truth: friendships between women are often the deepest and most profound love stories, but they are often discussed as if they are ancillary, “bonus” relationships to the truly important ones. Women’s friendships outlast jobs, parents, husbands, boyfriends, lovers, and sometimes children…it’s possible to transcend the limits of your skin in a friendship…This kind of friendship is not a frivolous connection, a supplementary relationship to the ones we’re taught and told are primary – spouses, children, parents. It is love…Support, salvation, transformation, life: this is what women give to one another when they are true friends, soul friends.”

— Emily Rapp (via kuanios)

[lovestereo]

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