Perhaps the river
doesn’t ask the stone
Why it should smooth
its edges as it flows.
Perhaps the sun
has always simply shone
On thorn and rose alike,
because it knows
That grace, like spring,
needs no reason to return,
And love, like fire,
simply exists to burn.
#poetry
doesn’t ask the stone
Why it should smooth
its edges as it flows.
Perhaps the sun
has always simply shone
On thorn and rose alike,
because it knows
That grace, like spring,
needs no reason to return,
And love, like fire,
simply exists to burn.
#poetry
November 16, 2025 at 10:32 PM
Perhaps the river
doesn’t ask the stone
Why it should smooth
its edges as it flows.
Perhaps the sun
has always simply shone
On thorn and rose alike,
because it knows
That grace, like spring,
needs no reason to return,
And love, like fire,
simply exists to burn.
#poetry
doesn’t ask the stone
Why it should smooth
its edges as it flows.
Perhaps the sun
has always simply shone
On thorn and rose alike,
because it knows
That grace, like spring,
needs no reason to return,
And love, like fire,
simply exists to burn.
#poetry
. The spider hangs between two worlds,
a patient thought,
whose thread sublimates light
to silver thought.
Earth pulls, sky calls,
and it chooses neither.
#vss365
a patient thought,
whose thread sublimates light
to silver thought.
Earth pulls, sky calls,
and it chooses neither.
#vss365
September 29, 2025 at 8:04 PM
. The spider hangs between two worlds,
a patient thought,
whose thread sublimates light
to silver thought.
Earth pulls, sky calls,
and it chooses neither.
#vss365
a patient thought,
whose thread sublimates light
to silver thought.
Earth pulls, sky calls,
and it chooses neither.
#vss365
September 15, 2025 at 11:18 AM
Peat Bog
In copper waters, silence
holds its ancient dream,
While hungry blooms feast
on light’s forgotten seams,
Here potential sleeps
in peat’s slow, sacred decay,
As barren mirrors birth
tomorrow from today.
#vss365
In copper waters, silence
holds its ancient dream,
While hungry blooms feast
on light’s forgotten seams,
Here potential sleeps
in peat’s slow, sacred decay,
As barren mirrors birth
tomorrow from today.
#vss365
September 12, 2025 at 6:57 AM
Peat Bog
In copper waters, silence
holds its ancient dream,
While hungry blooms feast
on light’s forgotten seams,
Here potential sleeps
in peat’s slow, sacred decay,
As barren mirrors birth
tomorrow from today.
#vss365
In copper waters, silence
holds its ancient dream,
While hungry blooms feast
on light’s forgotten seams,
Here potential sleeps
in peat’s slow, sacred decay,
As barren mirrors birth
tomorrow from today.
#vss365
The world inside
contains no straight lines,
or single notes
or hues;
there are,
instead,
entire worlds,
whole galaxies
of brilliant blues.
Sometimes I’m exhausted
by this kaleidoscope
behind my eyes.
#vss365
contains no straight lines,
or single notes
or hues;
there are,
instead,
entire worlds,
whole galaxies
of brilliant blues.
Sometimes I’m exhausted
by this kaleidoscope
behind my eyes.
#vss365
September 11, 2025 at 6:53 AM
The world inside
contains no straight lines,
or single notes
or hues;
there are,
instead,
entire worlds,
whole galaxies
of brilliant blues.
Sometimes I’m exhausted
by this kaleidoscope
behind my eyes.
#vss365
contains no straight lines,
or single notes
or hues;
there are,
instead,
entire worlds,
whole galaxies
of brilliant blues.
Sometimes I’m exhausted
by this kaleidoscope
behind my eyes.
#vss365
Rain, arbitrary god of grey mornings,
baptises the bog cotton
while I,
drenched apostle of fear,
wonder if the hawthorn’s tears
are wiser than me.
#vss365
baptises the bog cotton
while I,
drenched apostle of fear,
wonder if the hawthorn’s tears
are wiser than me.
#vss365
September 3, 2025 at 8:28 AM
Rain, arbitrary god of grey mornings,
baptises the bog cotton
while I,
drenched apostle of fear,
wonder if the hawthorn’s tears
are wiser than me.
#vss365
baptises the bog cotton
while I,
drenched apostle of fear,
wonder if the hawthorn’s tears
are wiser than me.
#vss365
Arbitrary stars dissolve in streams of blue,
Their courses bending where none has yet seen;
The sky becomes a canvas, rare and new,
Where certain people learn the art of dreams.
#vss365
Their courses bending where none has yet seen;
The sky becomes a canvas, rare and new,
Where certain people learn the art of dreams.
#vss365
September 3, 2025 at 6:57 AM
Arbitrary stars dissolve in streams of blue,
Their courses bending where none has yet seen;
The sky becomes a canvas, rare and new,
Where certain people learn the art of dreams.
#vss365
Their courses bending where none has yet seen;
The sky becomes a canvas, rare and new,
Where certain people learn the art of dreams.
#vss365
I watched how the earth collapsed into the impossible hollow of your absence,
And the tides yearned backwards toward a moon
that would set, that night,
behind your shoulders.
I was
suspended
in the grammar of goodbye.
#vss365
And the tides yearned backwards toward a moon
that would set, that night,
behind your shoulders.
I was
suspended
in the grammar of goodbye.
#vss365
August 31, 2025 at 8:47 PM
I watched how the earth collapsed into the impossible hollow of your absence,
And the tides yearned backwards toward a moon
that would set, that night,
behind your shoulders.
I was
suspended
in the grammar of goodbye.
#vss365
And the tides yearned backwards toward a moon
that would set, that night,
behind your shoulders.
I was
suspended
in the grammar of goodbye.
#vss365
August 25, 2025 at 4:58 PM
Through chambers of the heart, sweet anguish learns to reek like roses dying,
Each thorn of memory blooms eternal where the spirit lies crying.
#vss365
Each thorn of memory blooms eternal where the spirit lies crying.
#vss365
August 22, 2025 at 2:26 PM
Through chambers of the heart, sweet anguish learns to reek like roses dying,
Each thorn of memory blooms eternal where the spirit lies crying.
#vss365
Each thorn of memory blooms eternal where the spirit lies crying.
#vss365
Mark how this perfect seraph cuts the air’s bright veil,
Each wing-beat writes eternity in heaven’s starry book;
While I, earthbound, keep vigil with my upturned look,
That bird’s small heart holds more of God than all my prayers avail.
#vss365
Each wing-beat writes eternity in heaven’s starry book;
While I, earthbound, keep vigil with my upturned look,
That bird’s small heart holds more of God than all my prayers avail.
#vss365
August 20, 2025 at 3:44 PM
Mark how this perfect seraph cuts the air’s bright veil,
Each wing-beat writes eternity in heaven’s starry book;
While I, earthbound, keep vigil with my upturned look,
That bird’s small heart holds more of God than all my prayers avail.
#vss365
Each wing-beat writes eternity in heaven’s starry book;
While I, earthbound, keep vigil with my upturned look,
That bird’s small heart holds more of God than all my prayers avail.
#vss365
What sleeping thunder
makes the waters seethe
While surface calm
deceives the naïve eye?
Each droplet is
a coiled and waiting wreath
Of force that might
split earth from sea from sky.
#vss365
makes the waters seethe
While surface calm
deceives the naïve eye?
Each droplet is
a coiled and waiting wreath
Of force that might
split earth from sea from sky.
#vss365
August 19, 2025 at 3:36 PM
What sleeping thunder
makes the waters seethe
While surface calm
deceives the naïve eye?
Each droplet is
a coiled and waiting wreath
Of force that might
split earth from sea from sky.
#vss365
makes the waters seethe
While surface calm
deceives the naïve eye?
Each droplet is
a coiled and waiting wreath
Of force that might
split earth from sea from sky.
#vss365
I’m on the sea now. The sea will take me.
August 17, 2025 at 5:44 PM
I’m on the sea now. The sea will take me.
The Tree Man
The hazel’s branches
cradle his rough sleep,
And misty waters
speak his pummelled name.
He drinks from where
the ancient spirits seep,
And bathes where silver trout
leap high through flames.
#vss365
The hazel’s branches
cradle his rough sleep,
And misty waters
speak his pummelled name.
He drinks from where
the ancient spirits seep,
And bathes where silver trout
leap high through flames.
#vss365
August 16, 2025 at 4:29 PM
The Tree Man
The hazel’s branches
cradle his rough sleep,
And misty waters
speak his pummelled name.
He drinks from where
the ancient spirits seep,
And bathes where silver trout
leap high through flames.
#vss365
The hazel’s branches
cradle his rough sleep,
And misty waters
speak his pummelled name.
He drinks from where
the ancient spirits seep,
And bathes where silver trout
leap high through flames.
#vss365
dawn's first breath makes silver lacework gleam
August 16, 2025 at 2:19 PM
dawn's first breath makes silver lacework gleam