Im Wald der Tausend Schatten

Supposed confessions of a second-rate sensitive mind.

[imwalddertausendschatten]

My favourite place in the world is nestled in roots and branches

[imwalddertausendschatten]

Thoroughly wet but worth it 😝 The grass was high and soaked after the thunderstorm ⛈️

[imwalddertausendschatten]

Nature yearning

I want to soar through prism powers

And rise towards the light of day,

I want to reason with the flowers

And ask them why they sway, they sway.

I want to flow a rushing tide,

Be swallowed in its drowning deep,

I want to catch the roaring wind and ride

It downwards like an avalanche to sleep.

I want to rest where no soul ever tread

And make the sea my stormy bed.

[imwalddertausendschatten]

Walks without edits (4)

[imwalddertausendschatten]

Walks without edits (3)

[imwalddertausendschatten]

Hope

[imwalddertausendschatten]

I’m such a mess (1)

(So torn and tattered has my self become)

My heart is siphoned out of me, and drop by drop,

I bleed for them that I hold dear.

Yet where it wants to go, my heart, there is no song,

There is no cradle, just a void.

My love is ever reaching for the deep

While I remain here, and I bleed.

[imwalddertausendschatten]

Walks without edits (2)

[imwalddertausendschatten]

Walks without edits

[imwalddertausendschatten]

Wood Walks

[imwalddertausendschatten]

[imwalddertausendschatten]

Towards the light

[imwalddertausendschatten]

This is a wild apple tree. Isn’t it gorgeous?

[hyperions-fate]

Poetry turns all things to loveliness; it exalts the beauty of that which is most beautiful, and it adds beauty to that which is most deformed; it marries exultation and horror, grief and pleasure, eternity and change; it subdues to union under its light yoke all irreconcilable things. It transmutes all that it touches, and every form moving within the radiance of its presence is changed by wondrous sympathy to an incarnation of the spirit which it breathes: its secret alchemy turns to potable gold the poisonous waters which flow from death through life; it strips the veil of familiarity from the world, and lays bare the naked and sleeping beauty, which is the spirit of its forms.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, A Defence of Poetry (1821)

[theglasschild]

“How right it is to love flowers and the greenery of pines and ivy and hawthorn hedges; they have been with us from the very beginning.”

— Vincent Van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh

[nashoernchen]

Ammer, Tübingen Germany

[imwalddertausendschatten]

Moss, bark and ivy — eternal favourites 💛