¡Feliz domingo a todos!

Wearing an ordinary face, I lie to my own heart. The compass of my life shifts ever so slightly. A hidden reaction, a guilty smile slipping through. I only wish to be honest, to remain exactly as I am. #poetry　#freeverse

“Man is a god when he dreams, a beggar when he thinks.” Hölderlin: Hyperion

Australian artist Rachel Newling Veranda, Lake Eacham Hotel Queensland hand-painted linocut on handmade Japanese paper

A quiet introspection, love the symbolism and texture in this painting by Valeeva Lilya / Valeeva Lilya. "Where Thoughts Float" 2026 Canvas 150 x 120 cm

Daily #wabisabi #zen #buddhism 🙏

Where the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. Ariel Shakespeare: The Tempest

You are earth and death. Your season is darkness and silence. No living thing is more remote than you from the dawn. — Cesare Pavese Translated by Isabel Wall

Nostalgia? No, something else, sometimes an inexplicable sadness. Ingeborg Bachmann, "Word for Word" Photo by Laura Makabresku youtu.be/vSvw2-8cn98?...

I can live alone, if self-respect, and circumstances require me so to do. I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give. – Charlotte Brontë

La mélancolie c’est La tendresse Du désespoir

The world keeps asking you to be less. Less loud. Less weird. Less longing. Less dreaming. Less creative. Less loving. Less your self. Say no. Say it clearly. Say it with your whole heart. -Rainier Wylde Be well gentle souls. #photography #imageandverse #bloomscrolling #nature #bluesky

📸: JA_BB, “wisps”

… and suddenly thunder …

Fading away— the profile of your face. The warmth of that day quietly drifts into the distance. Only my cold fingertips still carry this loneliness. Will the morning sun ever rise again? Someday, once more. #poetry　#freeverse

J'ai rêvé tellement fort de toi, J'ai tellement marché, tellement parlé, Tellement aimé ton ombre, Qu'il ne me reste plus rien de toi. Il me reste d'être l'ombre parmi les ombres D'être cent fois plus ombre que l'ombre D'être l'ombre qui viendra et reviendra dans ta vie ensoleillée. R.Desnos

the wind has shown me what loss is, and the sky, love

Sarah Yeoman “Totem” #art #totem

J'envie cet enfant qui se penche sur l'écriture du soleil, puis s'enfuit vers l'école, balayant de son coquelicot pensums et récompenses. René Char : Feuillets d'Hypnos 181

Dans nos ténèbres, il n’y a pas une place pour la Beauté. Toute place est pour la Beauté. René Char : Feuillets d'Hypnos 237

I buried my grief in the garden and woke to a field of thorns.

Biophiliac (2018) by Mia Bergeron. Oil on aluminum.

Katsuyuki Nishijima - Street of Naramachi #ShinHanga #Woodblock #Print #JapaneseArt #Ukiyo-e

Night never breaks. The forbidden door remains sealed. The dark wears a smile of agony. Though the magic lamp is polished, the whispers are devil’s words. Two eyes gaze into the dim expanding darkness with sorrow. #poetry　#freeverse

“The problem is that we cannot see why the other ought to receive compassion. We are unable to see them as one of us, so they remain an other, an outsider not entitled to anything.” Read more: suliqyre.com/posts/how-we...

🤍🌹 little children's eyes filled with curiosity and amazement discovering the world that makes life worth living

Paul Celan "Es war Erde in ihnen" youtu.be/K8my2LjZxBY?...

… rural peace …

ᗷIᖇᗪ Oᖴ ᑭᗩᖇᗩᗪIᔕE #SynthArt #MidJourney

It’s a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It’s much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all. ~ Sylvia Plath, Journals

Schreib dich nicht zwischen die Welten komm auf gegen der Bedeutungen Vielfalt vertrau der Tränenspur und lerne leben. paul celan 1920 - 1970

Quand le ciel bas et lourd pèse comme un couvercle Sur l'esprit gémissant en proie aux longs ennuis, Et que de l'horizon embrassant tout le cercle Il nous verse un jour noir plus triste que les nuits. Baudelaire

To make the right choices in life, you have to get in touch with your soul. To do this, you need to experience solitude, which most people are afraid of, because in the silence you hear the truth and know the solutions. ~ Deepak Chopra

Between decay and virtue the body is bound in thorns yet a small flower still blooms it is called love too maddening too radiant #poetry　#freeverse

I T H E S H A P E O F S E L F - L O A T H I N G I An piece about low self-esteem, fractured identity, and the violence of self-hatred. Not every wound is visible, some are written internally until they become louder than truth.A portrait of a person erasing themselves one thought at a time.

#Forgiveness resides where memory no longer bleeds when touched... #vss365

Dark star crashes, pouring its light into ashes Reason tatters, the forces tear loose from the axis Searchlight casting for faults in the clouds of delusion Shall we go, you and I, while we can Through the transitive nightfall of diamonds?

the rain has the softest voice (it calms my soul) sometimes i want to rest my head in the night sky and just listen

Morning Light (2026) by Roar Kjærnstad. Oil on canvas.

The more I try to know you, the more your soul feels like an unread story. Like a curious child, I search for something certain in you, yet every answer brings a new mystery leaving me speechless again and again.

na paresaṃ vilomāni, na paresaṃ katākataṃ. attanova avekkheyya, katāni akatāni ca. Not the wrongs of others, or what others have done or have not done one should consider, but what has been done and not done by oneself. Buddha, Dhammapada 50

ㅤ I believe in the capacity of human beings to make things right. — ER img: Rebecca Cairns ㅤ

Inside a hug you can do everything: smile and cry, be reborn and die. Or stop and tremble in it, as if it were the last. ~Charles Bukowski

We traded souls for screens, and called the loneliness connection.

Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness. Kahlil Gibran

Japanese woodblock print by Tsuchiya Koitsu (1870–1949) ‘Kameido Tenmangu’, (1933) A rainy scene at Kameido Tenjin Shrine in Tokyo.

ἐὰν μὴ ἔλπηται, ϊνέλπιςτον οὐκ ἐξευρήςει, ϊνεξερεύνητον ἐὸν καὶ ϋπορον. If you do not expect the unexpected, you will not find it; for it is hard to be sought out and difficult to find. Si tu n'attends pas l'inattendu, tu ne le trouveras pas, car il est pénible et difficile à trouver. Heraklit

#Moonbeams wandered through the ruins of dreams too dead to remember their own names I gathered their ashes in silence, held them like prayer against my rib-, while the night stitched silver across forgotten wounds. #vss365

The Boy and the Angel by Martin Watsfeldt. Oil on canvas.

No one came to take advantage of those early Reverses, no doorbell rang: Yet each day of the week, once it had arrived, seemed the threshold Of love and desperation again. At night it sang In the black trees: 𝓜𝔂 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼, 𝓸𝓱 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼, 𝓸𝓱. John Ashbery