somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
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"I really just wanna be warm yellow light that pours all over everyone I love."Conor Oberst (via terramantra)
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"You must carry on / Like hurt has never touched you / Or like gravity is still theory"Chris Emslie, from “h as an ideogram for taking flight” (via the-final-sentence)
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"The story goes on and leaves the writer behind, for no story is ever done."John Steinbeck (via theparisreview)
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my favourite quote by Harun Yahya
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"I’m scared you will realize I’m just bones and questions and leave me for something solid."(via clickingteeth)
