There is poetry as soon as we realize that we possess nothing.

Sticks and stones

Long bones and afternoon tea

Wide grins and sincere whims

That he is to me.

If I were to be asked

Why I so madly love him

I would say 

That he is as quiet as me. 

And as that is

All that there is to suggest

That we were made of the same music,

I am a recluse and he is my moon.

Should we part one day

It shall be

As night serves day

And silence to sound,

Forever bound

To the magic that is our love.

Every thought reorders the universe

William Stafford (via awakenaslove)

(via justbreeeaathe)


home by rupi kaur

(via cooedthedove)

When you get free from certain fixed concepts of the way the world is, you find it is far more subtle, and far more miraculous, than you thought it was.

Alan Watts (via lazyyogi)

(via maa-kali)


I am so grateful to have discovered this man’s work a year and a half ago.

via chuloon