You think the world would love you better without your holy edges, without your bleeding wounds and unsightly want. You think the world would love you better but it's just the world.
The grass is soft and holds the ants and parasites and wolves. The wind is gentle and topples mountains the same as it steals breathe. The ocean remembers you, the sea consumes. You are not so tall and not so new.
You think the world would love you better but the world has eaten as much as it's given. the world’s great beauty is a mirror and an indifference to all your burning parts. the Sun is graceful. the Sun is deadly.
We inherit tragedy from hunger but the world would love you better no more, no less, than it will bare you. And it will, and it will.
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And so
The light from the sun
Brought the stars
Down to Earth
And scattered them
Across the sea
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among boring talks
endless repetitive tasks
why are only you,
like small glimpses among clouds,
able to brighten my day?
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For here I lay among the sage,
With the bones of spirits I yearn to meet.
Internal weaving of blossom and blood,
As they grant safe passage to my eternal sleep.
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Storm
Western wind; above
Clouds rush, chasing each other:
"Begone! — docile kin."
The tops of canopies sway;
Soon, it will be
Make
Or break.
---
13-11-2023, M.A. Tempels ©
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I need to start a garden!
Nature and its many meanings.
The Garden, Andrew Marvell | What I Would Like to Grow in My Garden, Katherine Riegel | The Seed-Shop, Muriel Stuart | Irises, Vincent van Gough | Oom Sha La La, Haley Heynderickx | New Feet Within My Garden Go, Emily Dickinson | The Diary of Anaïs Nin (Vol. IV), Anaïs Nin | Spring At Last, Hanne Lore Koehler | The Way Through The Woods, Rudyard Kipling | Garden, Eric Tran | To: Myself In Colorado, Everybody’s Worried About Owen | What is Blooming, Debra Yvonne Mathis | The Eye in the Forest, Photographer Unknown | Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers, Elizabeth Barrett Browning | The Wild Iris, Louise Glück | Overgrown Garden, Beetlebug | The Table in the Sun in the Garden, Henri Le Sidaner | Gardens There Were, Leslie Nelson Jennings | On the Pulse of Morning, Maya Angelou | Covered Bridge Park, Ryan Radke | I Worried, Mary Oliver | Oom Sha La La, Haley Heynderickx
[image id in alt text]
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I felt the wind touch my skin earlier. It was gentle and light, the sensation pleasant.
I felt it after I leaned forward to touch a tree’s bark. The surface cracked, peeling, and leaving me curious. I had seen this tree many times, but today was when I finally decided to feel the texture.
I suppose the wind spirit got curious, or just wanted to return the favour.
I ran my fingers across the bark’s surface, careful not to scrape or break anything, as not my right to destroy what I aim to understand.
I breathed in, thankful for the wind in my lungs and the opportunity to experience something new, in my life of suburban repetition.
Wind blows with you, not through or past you. Energetic connection established as the breeze caresses you.
I want touch. I want to be wanted. I want to want and want I will as I crave.
The wind spirit said “hi” to me today. I breathed out, wondering if this is even worth it, if anything I do matters.
And the wind answered back, “Isn’t the thought a reason to continue?”
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Some poetry for your Monday. This was ostensibly inspired by an IG prompt "bonfire smoke," although it pretty quickly left the prompt behind. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.
SACRAMENTS
Your midwife was
A bonfire's flame.
Thunder named you
With its name.
Baptized by
A double priest
(Waves on the shore,
Sun in the east),
To follow where
The wolf may lead
Is your one
And only creed,
Your catechism
Is the cry
Of hawks descending
From the sky.
When you die
Black soil will take you,
Countless creatures
Will unmake you--
Chilly dew
Upon your face
The only unction
In that place.
To such a one,
A golden ring
Would be a feeble,
Foolish thing:
We'll wed, therefore,
With fingers bare,
Our notaries
The earth and air.
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Idle Steps 3.8.24
"Horrid, Florid, Ordeal of Being Loved"
My heart opens, full bloom
I could gather a thousand petals at the very sight of you
Pomegranates are a bloody, challenging mess
So maybe I’m worth loving too
Whether I am fresh picked
Fallen or bruised
There is bitter sweetness worth working for
No adoration refused
So peel back each ventricle
Each pump and each beat
Take me to prairies, to valleys, to parks
For a picnic, take seat
Rosebuds and earbuds and you’re bud; I am
Budding and blooming and blossoming bright
Take all your time with me
I’ll not leave this night
Make of me a labor, a passionate task
Is this too much to ask of you? Too arduous a task?
Then on the dank and dirty ground I shall rot to feed the earth anew
@env0writes C.Buck
Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0
Support Your Local Artist!
Photo by @env0
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The Weaver
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In the intimate
Dance
Between shadow and light
The Sun and Earth
Paint
Their grace
Dispersing and shading
Blending and infusing
Particles
Into a cascading array
Bled in gold
Across the sky
This sensual collision
A masterpiece
Of their divine
Energy
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could i request a webweave on the struggles of being the younger child?
(for example - being treated like a baby, older siblings acting like theyre the only ones who have problems, bullying by older siblings not being taken seriously, not feeling like your achievements matter as much, because your older siblings did it first, feeling lonely/ignored, annoying stereotypes about younger siblings on media etc.)
i did my best with this. i hope you're doing okay <33
Chen Chen Nature Poem; When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities / Marina & The Diamonds The Family Jewels / Lisa See / Tracy Emin LOVE ME TODAY (via @romanceangel) / Krystal Sutherland House of Hollow / wych elm Susan Smith
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