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There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing Then there is something For a brief moment Then there is nothing again

. Louise Bourgeois

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Tough Zinnias

Alice Fulton

If you come up the path through time’s protensity you’ll find me

in this yellow November, a muddle of sun beside me on the ground. I’ll be lost

in thought, unhappy with the common marigold’s heavy stink, dreaming of feathery things

with berries. Come intently up the path through extensities of space.

Tough zinnias come up & find me. Why not you? They are loud flowers that bear witness

to past waterings by blooming through drought. I’ll be thinking I must

become something that thrives in dry weather. Come calmly up the path.

Be so present even eyes dimmed by bitters can track you into the pastel asters.

Don’t make me wait. I’ll be fidgeting with the unrest brought on by fatal weather.

What will become of us? I think our attributes will be engraved inside a promise

ring in a script too small to read. Come quietly and be undimmed.

When I see you, my eyes will fill with “really?” I’ll stand there

trying to decide if you are cool enough to make any trace of warmth

seem welcome or warm enough to make any residue of cold

negotiable. I’ll say if you’ve come to tell me you’re going, please go.

"...if there are symbolic harvests that yield negative results, things that keep coming to you that you don’t want want, or old patterns that keep arising, then Saturn’s oppositions give you the opportunity to see what is going on that may be causing that to happen. Saturn will remind us that if we want a different harvest, we need to plant new seeds."

-Alex Amerosi

#Saturn #eclipse #harvest

mournfulroses

Izumi Shikibu, from a diary entry featured in Japanese Poetic Diaries; The Diary of Izumi Shikibu

novemberchild

"Otto Marseus van Schrieck – Snakes, Toads and butterflies (1678)"

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petaltexturedskies

Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

n-vzn

Despite the distance, the moonlight still reaches us both

dk-thrive

“Things don’t have purposes, as if the universe were a machine, where every part has a useful function. What’s the function of a galaxy? I don’t know if our life has a purpose and I don’t see that it matters. What does matter is that we’re a part. Like a thread in a cloth or a grass-blade in a field. It is and we are. What we do is like wind blowing on the grass.”

— Ursula K. Le Guin, The Lathe of Heaven (Diversion Books, April 20, 2014)

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I wish I could kiss each of your eyelids and make the laughing stars fall at your feet. I wish I could touch your cheeks with fingers warm and fragile, and make red rose petals bloom from you until your lips are painted with my color. I wish a sigh could become a kiss, furtive and distant, and stir the wind to bring you to my mouth. I wish a thought would cross your mind, and it would be my face, my name, that your lips murmur as you smile. I wish for you… I wish for me… and for the moon to be loved, for the very first time, by the sun.

Ojalá pudiera darte un beso en cada uno de tus párpados y hacer que las estrellas risueñas cayeran a tus pies. Ojalá pudiera rozar tus mejillas con mis dedos, tibios y frágiles, y hacerte brotar pétalos de rosas rojas hasta pintarte los labios con mi color. Ojalá un suspiro se volviera beso, furtivo y lejano, y provocara al viento para traerte hasta mi boca. Ojalá un pensamiento te cruce la cabeza, y sea mi rostro, mi nombre, lo que murmuren tus labios al sonreír. Ojalá tú… ojalá yo… y que la luna sea amada por primera vez por el sol.

metamorphesque

The Lord of The Rings: The Return of The King, J.R.R Tolkien

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Shoda Koho ( 1871-1946 ) Moonlight Sea c. 1930

the ocean welcoming the full moon

-Basho

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