forgetlings:

(Whatever planet you come from
I will find it & walk its countryside
with a walking stick & picture of you

At that time it will be morning
I will not be sick any more.)

Drenched

nirvikalpa:

My souls are walls of ocean caves:
soaked shadows and lights echoing back 
absent voices of mine and feelings 
I can never make sense of,

for I live from a conviction of the sacredness 
of my own individuality;
as if I am grappling for solid ground
while mournful fiends nip my feet,

As if all the oceans were
contained in my palm:
a hymnal with one verse 
singing Her only praise.

I sing it through the breath of the morning rain,
I feel it through the being of my lone oak tree:

as if I, the Earth’s virgin lover,
came to caress Her curves, 
to form my body to Her silhouettes;

as if the universe Herself 
were some allegorical creature,
creating and existing only to rehearse, play, 
and celebrate Her sacred ancient rites.

Posted: 1 day ago

yoursundrenchedworld:

carve your name into my collarbones
with the whisper of kisses you’re
trailing across my skin

brand your palms onto my spine
with the sigh of love you’re
quietly brimming with

lock yourself inside my ribs
with the hope of forever you’re
promising to the stars 

You simply are everything arising moment to moment. You do not see the sky, you are the sky. You do not touch the earth, you are the earth. You do not hear the rain, you are the rain. You and the universe are what the mystics call “One Taste.” This is not poetry. This is a direct realization, as direct as a glass of cold water in the face.

Posted: 2 days ago

A poet looks at the world the way a man looks at a woman.

Posted: 3 days ago

Sometimes I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there’s no room for the present at all.

But do not ask me where I am going,
As I travel in this limitless world,
Where every step I take is my home.