Nothing Gold Can Stay

Riddle: Waves of greetings and goodbyes

Irreverence for all; desire or need. We often squabble for and ever heed, the inevitable- possessives plead, regardless it chokes: forever it lead;

Causes and caused all until "The end", you lose?- it lend, like enemy and friend, your abuser it rend and later it mend. The rules you bend, just follow a trend, Forever you fend, press buttons to vend, you attend; descend as entropy wend.

It can never know you, but you know it? Right?.. (not rhetorical)

When your comfort fictional character has absolutely no fics on archive of our own D:

in the end all you have is yourself, your comfort fictional characters and archive of our own

So I may read.

this is what it means to be human

Everything, Mary Oliver

The Breathing, Denise Levertov

A Prayer by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The Laughing Heart by Charles Bukowski

Like a Small Café, That’s Love by Mahmoud Darwish (translated by Mohammad Shaheen)

Having a Coke with You by Frank O’Hara

Eating Together by Li-Young Lee

The Orange by Wendy Cope

The Quiet Machine, Ada Limón

To Go Mad, Paruyr Sevak

Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled with Shrieks by Christopher Citro

Hammond B3 Organ Cistern, Gabrielle Calvocoressi

Peace XVIII, Khalil Gibran

Your Unripe Love, Paruyr Sevak (from “Anthology of Armenian poetry")

Here and Now by Peter Balakian

Ich finde dich (I find you) by Rainer Maria Rilke

The Thing Is by Ellen Bass

One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

Miss you. Would like to take a walk with you. by Gabrielle Calvocoressi

I Want to Write Something So Simply by Mary Oliver

What's Not to Love by Brendan Constantine

Where does such tenderness come from? by Marina Tsvetaeva

You Are Tired (I Think) by E. E. Cummings

Living With the News by W.S.Merwin

What the Living Do by Marie Howe

My car lurches wildly into the parking lot and I abandon it, still running, at the curb, ignoring the guard who calls after me: “Hey! You can’t leave this here.”

I race into the hospital. A flock of bedraggled “get well soon” balloons bob wildly behind me.

I stop at the desk and startle the poor clerk there. “Where?!” I gasp.

I rush off before he can tell me. I know in my heart where my destination is.

As I near the end of the hall I am greeted by a whole crowd of anxious mourners and well-wishers, all bearing tokens of affection; flowers, cards, teddy bears. Our balloons join into one giant, grieving stormcloud.

“Any news?” I ask the nearest person. And they shake their head sadly.

“We can only wait now,” they say. And though we have never met before, we squeeze hands.

All of us hope for the swift recovery of our beloved AO3.

The other day I came up with this extremely derpy idea and chuckled to myself, so now it's an extremely derpy comic

I love people.

-- Just Removing this gem from the comments :) --

i suppose that one of my most unpopular opinions is that christianity - in it’s most liberating & progressive forms - does require a lifelong commitment to self-sacrifice. you are called, like Christ, to burn yourself in order to keep others warm.

i’m not a fan of the modern idea of “cheap grace,” which scoffs at things like undeserved forgiveness. you are called to forgive the worst people you know, even if it takes a lifetime.

while grace is abundant, free, and gentle - we find the example of Christ condescending himself to live among the “least of these,” suffering and dying - and calling his followers to do the same.

christ’s mercy never waned for those followers who walked away, but many did walk away once the calling became difficult.

while a lot of the language of “discipline” and “discipleship” gets misapplied by conservative christians to tie heavy burdens onto others, i think it’s a mistake as a progressive/leftist believers to ignore the fact that following Christ can certainly require intense levels of personal discomfort and difficult work.

yet, we don’t suffer alone.

The Road Goes Ever On and the Misty Mountains song (from chapters 16 and 18 of my comic adaptation of The Hobbit.) anyway: the symbolism of the parallels between these two poems ;-;. [Find links to all my projects here!]

Bartender: thanks for stopping that bar fight, spiderman. Can I get you a drink? It’s on the house

Peter: thank you, but I can’t

Bartender: why not

Peter:

Bartender:

Peter, trying not to give his age away: I’m pregnant

american teenager, ethel cain // carrie, stephen king