#existential celestial

[existential-celestial]

is that poetry your own?? ✨💗 it’s lovely :)

heyyyy yes, dear anon! more of my writing: fragments, poetry, vignettes, dream sequence. thank you for reading and for leaving a kind note ✨

p.s. (unupdated) general compass

[lovefulls]

for the name aes: Janyn :)

shattered gems, black and white, winking in the early sun, but the stars are out. look, you can see the big dipper

name aes!

[svcredstars]

@existential-celestial I haven't read the Yellow Wallpaper (is it good?), but yes omg Jane Eyre definitely gives me that ache inside. Most of the readings that I have been doing lately makes me so anger because they're right that's what women have been forced to do for millennia.

[existential-celestial]

j. p. berame | ig | redbubble | chapbook

[existential-celestial]

• #poem • - analemma - the geometry of sun moving across the expanse of rot, this old wooden floor— i count the times the light has transformed & transfixed: since landing on my bare limbs since kissing my right cheek since tracing my eyelids. . now sinking, i feel the bright threads yearning for sleep; . (dear, what i am trying to say to you is that) . tonight, to your eyes, what does the sky speak? . . . j. p. berame // no. 052317 ig  |  redbubble  |  chapbook

https://www.instagram.com/p/CBVd4s9hVDU/

[existential-celestial]

who dare withstand this surging world, a mournful finite ocean? only those who have no castles of their own shall survive the tide. j. p. berame // no. 061019 ig  |  redbubble  |  chapbook

[existential-celestial]

“...eyes are faultless, clear as any river, unimpeachable as a landscape.” — The English Patient, Michael Ondaatje

https://www.instagram.com/p/CBie0YnhPmr/

[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.

https://www.instagram.com/p/B76Qr-_BQAd/?igshid=4wvz2dw7wzwm