the past beats inside me like a second heart

***prev wickedwhimsicalwallflower & kitseyybarbour***

[bunlly]

[macrolit]

The Mysteries of Pittsburgh and Telegraph Avenue, Michael Chabon

[dreamsuggestion-deactivated2019]

send me back to the stars

[natalieweepoetry]

Some people have a softness that draws water from the earth. Call it dream. Call it flight. The opening & closing of your eyelids, like sparrow wings beckoning the trees. The music of your bones, startling spring from the earth, the dazzle of your smile squeezing honey from the bees. You are kinder than the cruelest thing that’s ever been done to you. You are so good, bad people are ready to break every cruel word over their knee. You are so good, lazy people line up to be the coffee-mug at your mouth.  The religious talk about the second coming & you talk your shadow into starlight. If you asked the clouds for shade the sky would split itself like apple. If you asked me to cut out my heart I would do it with my own knife.

“That Kind of Good”, Natalie Wee  (for Caitlyn Siehl)  (via infyres)

[woodlandtrust]

FROM The Tables Turned – William Wordsworth

One impulse from a vernal wood

May teach you more of man,

Of moral evil and of good,

Than all the sages can.

[theloupgaroux]

The truth is: Love is an organic thing. It rots and softens.

Clementine von Radics, All That’s Left To Tell (via theloupgaroux)

[quotemadness]

Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

C.G. Jung (via quotemadness)

[horriblebeing-deactivated201906]

[disillusionedthings-deactivated]

“Death Looking into the Window of One Dying”, ca.1900, Jaroslav Panuška

[woodmeat]

hate to think that when im taking my last breaths dakota fanning is outside making it clap

[anamorphosis-and-isolate]

Sylvia Plath from The Unabridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath

[dappledwithshadow]

forest with sunlight pouring in - louis rivier

[emmadelosnardos-deactivated2018]

[letheane-deactivated20200121]

The lilac-scent, the bushes with dark green heart-shaped leaves, Wood-violets, the little delicate pale blossoms called innocence.

Walt Whitman, from ‘Warble for Lilac-Time’ (via sempiternele)

[musterniillustrates]

is anything as pure as a mango. is anything as humble and good and forthright as a mango, i ask you.

[ulrikke7-deactivated20160709]

In the woods, it’s still raining.

[allthingseurope]

Walensee, Switzerland (by 2mag7)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

                                                      “Clean feelings,                     there are no clean feelings.”

— Alice Notley, from Disobedience: Poems; “Roaring Being A Given, My Roaring’s A Given”

[ulrikke7-deactivated20160709]

How should I pray if I don't believe?

Praying is just talking, or not talking, to God. God is everything. Praying is turning towards light. You don’t need to believe, you just need to be.