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silverblxssoms · 3 years

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deconstructing society and morality is huge in witchcraft and you’ll be put through trials until you are birthed again as a wild animal. you cannot practice until you are free of your human tongue. you are wearing this skin as a disguise and your soul is closed to mankind.

#rbg #short #the finality of humanity #wandering within the green

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silverblxssoms · 3 years

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“In a tangled way, the green of the trees is part of my blood. Inside me life beats in some distant heart… I was not meant for reality, it was life that sought me out.”

— Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (tr. by Margaret Jull Costa)

#rbg #short #wandering within the green

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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there’s something ancient in you, isn’t there? something that has seen a thousand worlds, half-remembered yet fully felt. there’s an alienation on a deep level, a keening howl, carrying within it grief and longing and wonder, anguish and exhilaration. i can hear it. while your determined steps may be unsure, not trusting the ground to give way beneath you again, i promise you i will walk beside you, i will not turn aside. should our paths chance to part, may we meet again, even if under different stars. my heart will recognize you, i know this.

#rbg #medium #the finality of humanity

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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We’re a stormy kind of people— my father rained for days after his funeral; we each of us tempest our old-world rage. In another age we’d have been gods, but here we are, in our mortgaged homes, rented apartments, in our leased cars, in our morning commutes. Here we are in our everyday spite and sorrow, in our lifetimes of fury. All our sturm und drang and nothing to show for it; we’re human even on the worst days— when it rains it pours and we’re caught in it too.

Maya Phillips, “A Kind of Temperament,” from Erou (via bostonpoetryslam)

#rbg #medium #shadows of mortality

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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xshayarsha:

“Lovers are always waiting. They hate to wait; they love to wait. Wedged between these two feelings, lovers come to think a great deal about time, and to understand it very well, in their perverse way.”

— Anne Carson, from “Now then,” Eros the Bittersweet (Dalkey Archive Press, 1998)

#rbg #short #shadows of mortality

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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#rbg #img #the finality of humanity

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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Mary Oliver, Worm Moon

#rbg #img #wandering within the green

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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There are stories we refuse to tell. To tell them would be to set them loose upon the world.

Diane Seuss, “The Last Still Life: The Head of Medusa,” from Still Life with Two Dead Peacocks and a Girl

#rbg #short #the finality of humanity

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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Something stirs amomgst the Cosmos. Something vast and dark and writhing and infinite in its glory. It calls out in a hundred million voices that feel like a tidal wave, a hurricane, a supernova, that reach through you and grip your ridiculously small existence like a vice.

Its words, ever-present, are incomprehensible to you. You weep in joy, in terror, in all-consuming grief, its vacuous choruses filling your soul to the brim. This is what you were born to do, our Voice, our Soul, our Emissary.

#rbg #medium #delirium of violets

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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Margaret Atwood, from Selected Poems II

#rbg #img #lu li la lu li la

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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Your soul is old, older than the ground you walk, and yet still it burns ever-bright. This world is new and strange, the stardust in your veins your only comfort of home.

#rbg #short #shadows of mortality

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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there is beauty in chaos, child

do not let it consume you

#rbg #short #violet delirium

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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summer night dream, velvet sky carrying the moon, leaves whispering

(via lamata-art)

#rbg #short #wandering within the green

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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there is a steady stream that leads to a river. the river is wide, and edged by lush grass. it is a pale blue, pure and crisp. drink from it and swim in it, let it absorb your sorrow. it is shallow, mostly, but wade further in and you could dive deep if you wanted to. swim to the island in its centre. there is a tree to rest beneath. it will only turn to night if you wish it to.

#rbg #short #flashes of a future #wandering within the green

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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All things are connected. What we surrender, we may be given. What we lose, we may find again. For every one there is another.

urVa, pg. 162, The Shadow of the Dark Crystal

J.M.Lee

(via the-wrote-n-the-writ)

#rbg #short #the finality of humanity

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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i’ve forgotten my name but there’s music in my mouth, as usual we shouldn’t let poets lie to us, but we will. i’m not saying hope is good. we’re not pretending we have a choice, just that we haven’t already made one.

Amy Saul-Zerby, “go gentle if you want to,” published in Peach Mag

#rbg #median #delirium of violets

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silverblxssoms · 4 years

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But poetry says things that nothing else can. It snares the edges of the unspeakable. It grazes dreams. It stands with feet in several worlds. It says two or three things at once, and then denies them all in favor of silence.

James Tate, in his introduction to James Welch’s Riding the Earthboy 40

#rbg #short #lu li la lu li la

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