Survival is get up, eat and get ready for the day. Work, go home, do some mindless activity, get ready for bed and sleep. Each day has the same structure, the same form.
Two things break me out of that; friends and books. Time with these fuels my heart to beat for more. More than day-after-day drudgery, more than simply fulfilling obligations.
With these, days are morning cuddles with my car and music that fills a peaceful house. They are short laughing conversations with my co-workers, or the way the sunlight hits the rain-laden clouds during my commute. They are the little moments of breath-stealing beauty in a good novel or my siblings' jokes. They are the clean feeling after a shower, and the soft warmth that curls around my bones when I bundle into bed for the night.
And this is living.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 10:11 PM UTC
How the sunlight throws textured shadows on forested mountainsides.
Frost that clings onto windows, curling into icy, sharp rosettes.
The way clouds glow electric white in a soft summer sky.
How music can unfurl or burst or soar or stagger or peal or boom from people's mouths in a vast spectrum.
Sparks that flutter sky-high off a fire.
The way the ocean ripples or roars, blending its ever-contradicting nature into harmonious beauty.
*There is so much breathtaking beauty in this world that I just can't help
but live in
wonder*.
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
Whippy willow-branch crowns
and crystal-cold pool water -
grass-tickled bare feet
and breathless trampoline bouncing -
comfortable, starlit darkness
and hours spent amongst the trees.
These are the memories that return with the summer sun,
and I cannot shake their carefree presence,
or how they pierce my heart.
Summer was always our joy.
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 1:21 AM UTC
A velvet-soft throw
And my gently sleeping cat-
Warmth and comfort reign.
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 11:05 AM UTC
Stars that glimmer in a velvet sky,
sprinkles of colour dotting spring trees,
rivers galloping down mountainsides,
endless open stretches that beg to be run across with wild abandon,
heavy air hanging amidst thick trees, which shelter unseen creatures mere feet away,
infinite, firm, immovable ranges topped with glittering snow,
sun-streaked and sparkling oceans, smoothly beckoning or foaming with reckless passion.
When did we start shuttering our wide eyes,
closing out all but thin strips of our world’s breathtaking beauty?
How can anyone bear to be so readily sightless of this magnificence?
Maybe if we threw open the blinds
and bathed in the artistry of our Earth,
we wouldn’t be so irresponsible with it,
wouldn’t allow ourselves to be complicit in its devastation.
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
I don't travel much,
but when I do,
the absence of
omnipresent,
immovable
mountain ranges
always
*disturbs*
me.
I miss the
calming, cool blues and greens
that frame
my world,
and feel
e x p o s e d
without them.
But they welcome me
home
with
a sure embrace
each time.
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 8:17 PM UTC
I am tiny,
miniscule amidst
these waves,
gray, grave, and claiming
every ounce
of
will and work
from my poor soul.
I have so much to give,
but how little it is
when compared with
the demand.
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 11:59 PM UTC
The gap
b e t w e e n
my arms,
created by your
a b s e n c e
from them,
***** my
breath
a w a y.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 11:54 PM UTC
Flowers in spring, me out of bed in the morning, and clean, fresh clothes. The miles in front of a long car drive, and the scenery before the eyes of the passengers. My heart in his hands, or my soul under my mother's gaze. Lawn chairs and lunches on sunny beach days with friends, when water sparkles, the sun embraces, and laughter is prince of the day. Hands held out to help those who have fallen, and vulnerability in the eyes of those accepting the offer. Music from the lips and instruments of men, then from the radio as we dance at 2 AM in the light of the TV. Romance as darkness falls, personal space shrinks, and eyes connect in intimacy. Moonlight as it peeks over a tree-capped mountain, slipping into the bedroom window from between the curtains.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 2:16 AM UTC