@birdheartedgirl.bsky.social
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⋅ ☽ ˙ . ˙ . ⚸ ⋅ nigredo albedo rubedo 🥀 infp
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birdheartedgirl.bsky.social
in order to feel
what birds feel
it is necessary
to become one
with the sky

🍂

Itsuko Azuma
東逸子
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abstractica.bsky.social

The Light Within — Karl J. Kuerner, acrylic on panel
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abstractica.bsky.social

I feel that art has something to do with the achievement of stillness in the midst of chaos. A stillness which characterizes prayer, too, and the eye of the storm. I think that art has something to do with an arrest of attention in the midst of distraction.

— Saul Bellow, Conversations
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wanderingsag.bsky.social
Every piece of art is a light in the darkness.

~Marc Chagall
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birdheartedgirl.bsky.social
Yuki Ryota 幸亮太
White Anemone
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sanctorium.bsky.social
the full moon figural dreamscape
the full moon figural dreamscape


Ph. murky figurals in paled violet scape
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artsofexistence.bsky.social
Clown In The Moon

My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.

― Dylan Thomas
#Poetry
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asummerghost.bsky.social
She was mystically delicate.

- Virginia Woolf
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meliorism-78.bsky.social
Of shadows and mysteries…

#rosewednesday
A moody photo of a pink rose. Its petals are slightly illuminated by the light.
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thelovelymc.bsky.social
"go look at the moon" people are my favorite kind of people
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jamberee13.bsky.social
She’s behind the trees and so am I
The moon behind thick trees and a starry sky
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wanderingsag.bsky.social
A heavy burden lifted from my soul,
I heard that love was out of my control.

~Leonard Cohen
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birdheartedgirl.bsky.social
i know you think words bind us, one to another... but who do you share the moon with? for she's a language unto herself. the oldest living language, that of light and dark, and silence.
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sanctorium.bsky.social
“…the thing with October is, I think, it somehow gets in your very blood. Unapologetically. Almost ruthlessly.”

Anne Sexton
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sanctorium.bsky.social
That orbèd maiden with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the Moon.

Percy Bysshe Shelley
That orbèd maiden with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the Moon.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Ph. Leaping white deer in the dark with a suggestion of Moon in distance
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fairyism.bsky.social
dancing in the wind,
like the leaves in the trees.
Double exposed colourful photograph of the silhouettes of leaves, overlapping with each other and creating contrasts. The photo was taken during sunset time, and has a pink to orange toning at the bottom, and a more purple and blue one towards the top.
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rowantreeforest.bsky.social
October 7, 2025 moonrise time-lapse
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abstractica.bsky.social

The melancholy river bears us on. When the moon comes through the trailing willow boughs, I see your face, I hear your voice, and the bird singing as we pass the osier bed. What are you whispering? Sorrow, sorrow. Joy, joy. Woven together, like reeds in moonlight.