Oscar Wilde:

[ID: July 10. Storm, END ID]

[ delphinium & water lily ]

We measure mountains by the gold beneath them, forests by the timber within them, and rivers by what they can provide. Yet the eagle never asks what the sky is worth. The ancient tree does not calculate the value of its shade. The wolf does not invoice the moon for its song. Only humans learned to put numbers on everything— while forgetting that the most precious things cannot be owned at all. What is the price of silence beneath a field of stars? What is the value of a forest that heals a weary mind? How much is a sunrise worth to a soul that almost gave up? Some treasures were never meant to be extracted, harvested, or sold. They exist simply to remind us that life is more than possession. The wise ones knew this. They sat beside rivers without needing to own them. Walked through forests without needing to conquer them. Looked upon the earth not as a resource— but as a relative. For untouched beauty, wild places, solitude, and spiritual renewal are not luxuries. They are medicine. And perhaps the greatest poverty is not lacking wealth— but losing the ability to recognize the sacred in things that cannot be bought. 🖤

Anne Sexton, from a poem titled "Loving The Killer," featured in The Complete Poems of Anne Sexton

— Unknown

-Me.

— Unknown