Vitsidreamin - VitsDreamin

@freezingfaerie 's archive

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The old grieving autumn goes on calling to its summer the valley is calling to other valleys beyond the ridge each star is roaring alone into darkness there is not a sound in the whole night

W.S. Merwin, from Lights Out in “The Shadow of Sirius” (via adrasteiax)

And so at last I climbed the honey tree, ate chunks of pure light, ate the bodies of bees that could not get out of my way, ate the dark hair of the leaves, the rippling bark, the heartwood. Such frenzy! But joy does that, I’m told, in the beginning. Later, maybe, I’ll come here only sometimes and with a middling hunger. But now I climb like snake, I clamber like a bear to the nuzzling place, to the light salvaged by the thighs of bees and racked up in the body of the tree. Oh, anyone can see how I love myself at last! how I love the world! climbing by day or night in the wind, in the leaves, kneeling at the secret rip, the cords of my body stretching and singing in the heaven of appetite.

The Honey Tree by Mary Oliver

“O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go.”

— Robert Frost, from October in “The Poetry Of Robert Frost: The Collected Poems”

“Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.”

— Pablo Neruda

to be free

“—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever—or else swoon to death.”

— John Keats, excerpt of “Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art”, in John Keats: The Complete Poems

“There was no warning about how painful it was to tell a star of its own ending, (…)”

— Nikita Gill, from What It Means To Be A Forgotten Magic Maker in “Great Goddesses: Life Lessons From Myths And Monsters”