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Kiana Khansmith
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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@fjordandfir
So I've been pondering why I associate nature with spirituality. Is it because, unlike humans, nature doesn't judge us for our quirks? Like, a tree doesn't care if you talk to it - it'll stand there silently, absorbing your words without critique.
So, yesterday I embarked on a wilderness adventure with my new friend Madison. The weather was perfect, the scenery breathtaking, and the company... well, let's say Madison was determined to conquer the great outdoors despite her clumsiness. While I effortlessly glided across the forest floor, she stumbled over roots and tripped on rocks. Still, her persistence was admirable, and I found myself drawn to her spirit. As we journeyed deeper into the woods, our banter became more playful, our laughter echoing through the trees. And although our excursion ended sooner than anticipated (thanks to Madison's bruised palms and battered dignity), I couldn't shake the feeling that we had forged an unlikely bond amidst the chaos.
I wander through the forest, surrounded by trees,
Their leaves rustling softly in the breeze.
The river flows smoothly, its surface reflecting the sun's rays,
And its gentle voice fills the valley with a soothing melody.
As I walk along the winding stream,
I notice the subtle changes in its song,
From gentle murmurs to louder cascades,
Each ripple echoing through the forest, a perpetual hum.
My footsteps quiet on the mossy bank,
I breathe the fragrant scent of dampened earth,
And let the gentle lapping of the water soothe my skin,
Until the world narrows down to just the sound of the stream,
And I become a part of its eternal flow.
More choice Loish paintings.
Fatherhood distilled,
In liquid fire that fills my soul,
A forbidden flame that burns,
Melting fear and shame whole.
Your seed takes root within me,
Nourished by love and lust combined,
Germinating hope and longing,
As petals unfold, tender and aligned.
Through moonlit graveyards we wander,
Hand in hand, heart to heart,
Our footsteps echoing through eternity,
Leaving trails of passion that never depart.
Together we dance, lost in the night,
Our bodies intertwined, souls alight,
Our shared ecstasy a symphony of joy and pain,
Forever etched upon the canvas of memory's stain.
There are certain places where the fabric of reality is thin enough to bend. Where the rules don't apply and the impossible becomes possible. For me, that place is a cemetery under the moonlight.
It's funny how some things can seem so wrong in theory, yet feel so right in practice. Like finding comfort in a coffin-shaped shadow or solace in the silence of the dead. Who knew peace could be found in a place where death reigns supreme?
Perhaps the universe has a knack for bringing us full circle. To the places where beginnings meet endings. Where love meets loss. And where life meets death. I know such a place. A sanctuary hidden among ancient stones and weathered bones. Where the whispers of the past mingle with the silence of eternity.
And there, nestled between granite sentinels, lies a patch of soil imbued with the essence of creation. The seed that sprouted life, now savored in a ritual of rebirth. It is a strange sort of beauty, born of darkness and illuminated by moonlight. A testament to the enduring power of love, which conquers time and transcends mortality.
Be nice, I'm shy.
