universe
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We’re a forever oriented species. We think that if something can stand the test of time (which is an oxymoron considering time is indefinite), then it means something, it’s worthy of our attention. Relationships, jobs, happiness-the closer we aim to “forever,” the more it holds significance. We are obsessed with endings in this weird, meta
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Does time work against you? Is it time that slowly devours your flesh, ages your skin, shrinks your brain? Is time the silent killer, the morbid pessimist, the reality check that you are far from indesctructible? Are you ok with that, an immovable force dictating you? -Saturn
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I read my mother’s journals and yearn to have a child who will one day read mine.As scared as I am of what I may produce on those pages,for now, I still write on every line.
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I truly don’t believe there is such a thing as “right person, wrong time.” This is an age-old debate that brings up numerous perspectives and opinions, all of which are intriguing and valid. I have just never gelled with the idea that you can meet a person who theoretically ticks off all your boxes and
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A small collection of acrostic poems Alchemize – transform the nature or properties of (something) by a seemingly magical process. At my will, I let my soul dissolve and cradle the hierarchies of energies present. may the bound and boundless integrate with zero hesitations and an electrifying seal.
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How many times can I write a rhyme? Until my mouth sours like a lime and I crumble under the divine?
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Dream states are altered consciousness and I know this but the theory is immortalized as I slip into the abyss. a white noise app fills the silence of the night. I pick familiar sounds to soothe my slumber-a crackling fire, a heavy rainstorm, roaring city streets. They envelop me in warmth and nostalgia. I drift,
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Why the “love and light” side of spirituality is bullshit We come into the world in a stark, painful way. I’m sure there’s a lot of symbolical beauty in the birthing process, but until I have my own children, I can only see it as a physically excruciating process. We sit inside our mother’s womb,
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Someone gifted me an orchid some years ago. They’re gorgeous flowers, and I’m not usually one for flowers in my home (I prefer longer lasting greenery), but I loved them. Its arching branch produced many beautifully speckled and spotted flowers, pink and purple in hue. If you looked closely into the middle of the flower,
Lashanda Forsberg 