sweet nothings

I delight in beauty, crave nature, and live for the sweet epiphanies that exist in day to day life. I love to write.

[natures-queen-blog]

[lexxiinthesky]

moon magic.

[spaceandweed]

[lexxiinthesky]

I woke this morning to find that I am the weeping willow, the chrysalis, the shining bead of dew, the butterfly, I am millions of twinkling stars peppering the sky, I am the scornful the scorned the loved beloved, the ever watchful owl and the cautious field mouse, the stars in the sea the waves on the shore the sand tickling between toes, I am the gull, the egg, the serpentine river and silver moon, I am the rose and the snail, shell and soul and I am.

me.

[observando]

With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?

Oscar Wilde   (via weeatphungus)

[leebarguss]

(by Tyler Forest-Hauser)

[lexxiinthesky]

Moon.

What does the Moon see when she looks upon the Earth? Does she focus on the lovers bathed in milky light in their beds, entwined like serpents, their shadows passing sweetly love-like over one another in blind indulgence? The foxes that frolic playful in her glow, pouncing on field mice in the monochromatic moon-meadow? She sees, too, through shrouds of fog injustices innumerable performed on city streets before apathetic moon-bathed humans hurrying to their homes, to hide away from the night and its menaces. The Moon sees many things. She is a passive observer of the world.

Thinking on the Moon and her ever-present audience to our stage-like world I find myself performing my actions more carefully. For the Moon follows us everywhere, shining her white light on us, unlike her ever-bright counterpart the Sun who is blind with his hot-white-light. However passive she may be, I find myself compelled to please her, she in her placid loving moon-countenance, motherly almost, looking upon us from her seat in the star-blanketed sky. I would like very much to sit, knees drawn to my chest on a velvet hillside bathed in silvery light and speak with the Moon. To ask her questions and request of her a story. For I am certain that the moon has many stories to tell. 

[lexxiinthesky]

[lexxiinthesky]

Haiku #15

What does the moon see When she looks upon the earth? Unparalleled love?

[wvnderlst]

Glacier National Park | Scott Wilson

[lexxiinthesky]

[natures-queen-blog]

[lexxiinthesky]

Haiku #14

Let's run to the sea, Strip bare in the salt water And swim with dolphins.

[lexxiinthesky]

Jimi Hendrix, 1967

photo by Mike Berkofsky

[lexxiinthesky]

Meet Evan Holmes' submerged record.

http://evanholm.com/about/

[wayofthehermit]

[iris-in-the-ship-deactivated201]

[lexxiinthesky]

ocean.

When I was younger, I would climb nimbly across the rocks, imagining myself to be some lithe Princess of the sea. Toes pointed and arms stretched elegantly to either side for balance, my electric fingers dancing across the breeze, hair carrying ocean salt and sculpted like sea weed waving in the wind, I was empowered and I knew that I could do anything. I could even command the sea. I would stand straight as a knife, chest full of heart, gazing benevolently at the great water that lay under my power. Suddenly my tiny arms would shoot out as that of an orchestrator's: nimble and fluid like music notes in the air.

I remember these moments. When my spirit was so strong and believing of itself that I could command the sea. I think that perhaps it is the quality of our air that can push us to the edge of complete realization: it is the connection to the tree, who breathes its fine oxygen into the atmosphere, whose roots pull up from the dirt the sweetest nutrients, nutrients which rise from the earth's core and connect us all. I think of sipping that air between my teeth like a fine wine and gaining from it the knowledge of the ages.