#mossaged

My grief, softened by green,

I pressed my hands into moss,

a quiet cushion for the weight

I could not speak aloud.

The earth held me gently,

without judgment, without rush,

offering softness where my heart

was raw and ragged.

Here, in the shade of ancient trees,

I let the silence cradle me,

a tender promise

that even broken things

can be held whole,

Also known as Oliver.

Welcome to my digital garden, a soft space for unfiltered thoughts, devotional poetry, mosscore musings and the occasional cursed shitpost.

I accidentally became a poetry cryptid. My posts are all symbolic and nothing I post myself or reblog is theistic. It’s all moss and metaphor here.

This blog is part grief journal, part altar, part feral forest shrine.

You’ll find gods, ghosts, green things and glitches in the code.

Feel free to ask questions, send your mossling vibes or just wander quietly.