I Am More A Fool For Thinking, Wiser For Feeling, As If My Head Had Ever The Chance Of Hiding This From
I am more a fool for thinking, wiser for feeling, as if my head had ever the chance of hiding this from me
More Posts from Moonlitmirror and Others
0903, O.L. / Tumblr: @3lsahart / Peggy Toney Horton / September Days, In New England Fields and Woods, Rowland E. Robinson / Unknown / Alexander Theroux / Memory of Water, Reina María Rodríguez / September, Helen Hunt Jackson / Wallace Stegner / Instagram: @kjp / H. Stuart / Unknown / Unknown / Henry Rollins / Margaret Atwood / Diario Cuatro, DC de Oliveira / Virginia Woolf / Unknown / September 1st, D. E. / Beginning and ending with my death, Zeina Hashem Beck / The Whole Word and Other Stories, Ali Smith / Turquoise Silence, Sanober Khan / Victoria Erickson
Tuesday, 28th September 2021
My reality is shaped in colours; a painting blurred in depths of hues, brushed by a wandering silence.
I don’t know where I’m going. Where I came from is disappearing. I am unwelcome. My beauty is not beauty here. My body is burning with the shame of not belonging, my body is longing. I am the sin of memory and the absence of memory.
Warsan Shire, from Bless the Daughter Raised by a Voice in Her Head; “Home”
I am caught on the wind adrift
bound by a grieving sky
still within a restless storm
buried beneath its striking fire
I am half finished, incomplete as the moon in it's phases, yet still I am curved into a crescent smiling at my shadowed half
Black foggy mountains
bow beneath the legacy
of a golden sun
Somedays, my soul yearns
For you, as it spills itself
On my pages, prose or poetry
Words or thorns, just to
Quench itself, it does it all.......
Sometimes I think about how constellations are an entirely man-made construct and don’t actually exist inherently in nature. The universe just gave us stars, and we saw art and myths and stories in them. The capacity that humans have for seeing purpose in the incidental makes me realize just how lonely we are on this planet, desperately searching for meaning elsewhere in the universe.
Cherry blossoms float;
Flurries of delicate snow
in the heart of spring
The days are spent in glory and sun
until rain casts its violent shadow;
a storm to herald a setting moon
and bring life again, glory again --
-- it will be here soon
-
peakogreen liked this · 2 years ago -
voidic3ntity liked this · 2 years ago -
moonlitmirror reblogged this · 2 years ago
Historian, writer, and poet | proofreader and tarot card lover | Virgo and INTJ | dyspraxic and hypermobile | You'll find my poetry and other creative outlets stored here. Read my Substack newsletter Hidden Within These Walls. Copyright © 2016 Ruth Karan.
179 posts