I wish I could shield you from your own regret. But it’s not my fault— every time you thought yourself truly great, you kept yourself from knowing true greatness. Pride cometh before the fall, yes— but pride can also prevent you from rising to any height worth falling from at all.
Tag: philosophical
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Chiron,
who can be worthy
to hold healing’s key
without first being wounded?
the initiate must suffer
and walk that long road.
along that path,
there are many a straggler.
many
who have given up the search
for some destination.
con artists
litter the sidelines,
selling their poison as healing.
but there is a light,
there is a light in that distance,
should you choose to see it.
but it is a long road.
it is a long road,
your body will ache,
you will tire,
but it is love
that suffers long,
it is love
that perseveres,
it is love alone
that guarantees safe passage.
you will take love’s hand—
she will not take away the ache,
but she will stroke your hair through it.
she will not cure your pain,
no, she will not erase your fear—
but she will sing to you through the night.
so walk that long road,
and take love
as your companion.
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things that i think are sins:
- being in a hurry all the time
- acting like every minor inconvenience is the universe conspiring against you
- never taking the time to simply observe the world without stimulation—just observation.
- being too afraid to ever create, or dance, or say hi to that stranger, or to tell that person how you feel. some of the deepest sins against oneself and the world happen not from malice, but from fear.
- never sincerely saying, “i love you.”
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Mountains tremble
at her name.
planets shudder.
the stars
wink out
for fear of being seen.
she holds
a thousand Suns
in the palm of her hand.
she is the void
behind the void,
she is the darkness
carrying
the darkness.
who
comes for the reaper
when it’s his time?
it is her.
it’s she
who awaits
when death himself
dies.
-
Jupiter, Jupiter, Jupiter:
I can feel your heartbeat from here.
a hidden vein of starlight
from your heart
to mine:
through me you thrum.
I am
but a child,
and oh,
the heavens,
they throw me,
they catch me—
they throw me,
they catch me—
i am thrown—
i trust
i’ll be caught.
you know not
the hidden hands that catch those
who take leaps of faith!
so, leap—
amongst the stars,
there’s no bottom,
there’s no falling—
no,
only flying.
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you’ve no idea
what is waiting
to pour through you,
pour from you,
if you’d just get out of the way.
you’ve no idea the river—
demolish that dam,
it is your mind.
demolish that dam,
it is your fear.
demolish,
pour.
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sometimes,
love’s flame
is a fire that spills forth
as the sky cracks:
dawn’s light.
sometimes,
love’s flame
is a lamp burned.
its oil:
midnight.
love’s labors:
so oft
in those liminal spaces.
the heart’s torch:
the bravest tea light.
this love:
it is a quiet courage.
it has
no hall of fame.
it is
a gift
with no wrapping.
you feed on it—
you cannot see it.
you live on it—
you cannot feel it.
sometimes,
the truest loves
are unspoken,
& unseen,
but lived:
in the shadows.
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sit with your sorrow:
it can’t hurt you.
you can.
sit with your fear:
it won’t hurt you.
you can.
sit with yourself.
turn your back?
you’ll stab it.
sit with yourself.
the most basic form of respect:
bearing witness.
sit.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 