cœur pur

may you never let go of your childlike wonder.

[existential-celestial]

“It doesn’t matter to me how many summers I live to return: this one summer we have entered eternity.”

— Louise Glück, excerpt from The White Lilies

[walkinthehills]

たたみ石付近より弥陀ヶ原東部　　遠景に立谷沢川

[mellifleurs]

Attention is the beginning of devotion.

Line excerpt in Upstream, by Mary Oliver.

[inkpressedpetals]

[wiremothers-deactivated20230129]

god calls me on the payphone, tells me there aren’t enough magnolia trees in the garden. asks me a question. i spend my whole life answering it.

[existential-celestial]

Nikos Kazantzakis, Report to Greco

[set-apart-path]

May the Lord direct your hearts to the love of God and to the steadfastness of Christ.

2 Thessalonians 3:5

[nijinoink]

magnolia

95×60mm(The image is processed into a pattern) , Eraser prints,　

yasuko aoyama  10. 2016

[ihopeinjesus]

“Learn much of the Lord Jesus. For every look at yourself, take ten looks at Christ. He is altogether lovely. Such infinite majesty, and yet such meekness and grace, and all for sinners, even the chief! Live much in the smiles of God. Bask in his beams. Feel his all-seeing eye settled on you in love, and repose in his almighty arms. . . . Let your soul be filled with a heart-ravishing sense of the sweetness and excellency of Christ and all that is in Him. Let the Holy Spirit fill every chamber of your heart; and so there will be no room for folly, or the world, or Satan, or the flesh.”

[existential-celestial]

“Can you invent new verbs? I’m going to tell you one: I sky you; because I want to spread my wings deep and wide, so as to love you without measure.”

—

Se pueden inventar verbos? Quiero decirte uno: yo te cielo, asì mis alas se extienden enormes para amarte sin medida.

Frida Kahlo (b. 6 July 1907) in her letter to poet Carlos Pellicer, November 1947

[siegecraft]

i know it's hard. but i so firmly believe the strongest antidote to loneliness is reaching out first. and continuing to reach out. again and again and again. excise any scrap of shame you hold about being the person who texts first or pitches the plan or asks to get lunch. everyone is tired and busy and struggling. and afraid of feeling unwanted and unimportant. don't let the people you love feel that way. reach out first. don't be a ghost in your own life.

[existential-celestial]

“Come back, come back, my dear, my only friend, come back. I swear to you I’ll be good. […] Come back. Be brave, dear friend; nothing is lost.”

— Arthur Rimbaud (b. 20 Oct 1854) in his letter to Paul Verlaine dated 4 July 1873, featured in Complete Works (tr. Paul Schmidt).

[aloyhh]

imagine falling in love and it works out for the rest of your life

[infertilityidol]

absolutely in love with this pic from the Wikipedia page for Pikas

[petaltexturedskies]

Estival (adj.) — "belonging to summer" feels like the memory of sun lingering in your bones, the quiet comfort of light late into evening, the ease of summer unfolding all around. A a word for bare shoulders, warm wind, sticky fruit, and salty skin. For long days, slow nights, soft sunsets, and ocean air. The adjective estival comes from the Latin word aestivalis, meaning "of summer" from aestas (summer).

[louisegluck]

May Sarton, from Recovering: A Journal

[wanderingpawsphotography]

Yellowstone National Park/ June 2020

[existential-celestial]

consider the lilies.

the way they grow—no toil, no spin, no heartless laboring—ah, how they grow. and yet, they are clothed with radiance. dew drops. first light. the deepest breaths of dawn.

oh whose voice perfumes the darkness of my garden?

(let me hear You. let me hear You.)

consider me, twelve pieces left from feeding five thousand. i found what i gathered, or perhaps, gathered the found, collecting shards of the things i have planted but could not harvest. my Lord, my Lord, how i clutch them back into my chest. they do not fit. oh whose robe touches this disease and brings resurrection?

(fling wide these ancient doors, the very gates to my bones!)

here are the keys to the heart i earth. here are the blooms i picked and gathered. i shall go forth into the valley with my handful of dust, mountains trembling to bear witness to my deliverance.

oh whose breath is love, is song, is peaceful sustenance?

oh Lord, quiet me by Your presence, exult me by Your singing. You are my lambent light. You are my ten thousand fires standing guard outside my tent.

— 

j. p. berame // [consider the lilies] // no. 013020  ig | chapbook