Lifediaryofann - Ann

Anneshwa Paul / A melancholic December morning

What do you do, when you don't feel your soul in your body? You wait for the soul to return, because it gets lost sometimes, but never forgets the way back home✨

~ Returning Home ~

Anneshwa ✨

Competition kills the joy of the process.

Jamil B. Holway, tr. by George Dimitri Selim, from Grape Leaves: A Century of Arab-American Poetry; “Throbbings”

Your eyes ignited the unexpected wildfires that my little cottage heart wasn't ready for. Now, i burn, my home burns and your eyes burn while watching everything else flaring into ashes.

Anneshwa Paul

it is true, we do not know the existence of something, until it is felt in one way or another. the sunset was not known, before its brilliance in crimson, blush, and magenta was seen evolving across someone’s vision. thunder was not feared and hidden from until it was heard booming into a person’s eardrums. sunlight was not warm until it gazed upon a strangers naked skin. and i am forever misunderstood until my words land upon the hearts that need them the most. and what could be more prevailingly real than that.

Mahmoud Darwish, tr. by Sinan Antoon, from “In The Presence of Absence,”

never send it”

musings on hands

— ocean vuong, yves pires, berenice abbott, jean-baptiste carpeaux, auguste rodin, james croak, gian lorenzo bernini, david altmejd, roland faunte

Seal my honey drenched lips, with your petal soft kiss. Place your heaven made palm on my feather dulcet skin. Let them words flow from your poetic mouth, and let them become tattoos on my sacred back. Just like the sea rumbles for the the passionate moon, and so do, i for you.

Anneshwa Paul🌻