Sun chokes the atmosphere Moon dies and takes the truth and breath of you Stars inscribe the sky and determine who’s alive… What are your dreams? Ask your heart and put an old wish to the slaughter. Wild is the…
Sun chokes the atmosphere Moon dies and takes the truth and breath of you Stars inscribe the sky and determine who’s alive… What are your dreams? Ask your heart and put an old wish to the slaughter. Wild is the…
“We’ve built a world where the only option is hubris. Where the future belongs to anyone willing to act like the gods of our myths.” – Seth Godin When we strip away self-doubt and artifice we embrace the purity and…
December is what we are When love glistens back the light in the baubles. We have the White and the Words. Words that move mountains tiptoe to touch the stars whet the wondrous luster of the sea travel with the…
It was November ~ the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. – L.M. Montgomery It was November ~ the month of promiscuous trees, turbulent moons dressed up in haze, opal…
What can I give you? I am the blue as imagined by a blind and the roots of knowledge as watered by a scholar. I am the yellow wind and the mauve respond of light perched in the ubiquitous trees…
You are the mellow vines ripe at the touch of Autumn. You are a blue alphabet falling from the sky… You are the amber leaves lured in the sleep of Winter. You are the macadamized trance of flowers when Spring…
“Wear scarlet! Tear the green lemons off the tree! I don’t want to forget who I am, what has burned in me, and hang limp and clean, an empty dress.” ― Denise Levertov Art by Daniel F. Gerhartz.
Steal the sun With gilded sincerity. Place it in your heart with silvery fingers. Touch lives with the same warmth. If you do not have money to decorate your life with precious artifacts, decorate life with precious deeds and meaningful…
HE loves me He keeps my tears at bay in a corner crystal ball and my heart in a field of molten flowers*. I want to loose the yarn Again he pours crimson dew on my weary tales whilst I…
“Who are you?” I asked. I am a piece of heaven that reveals the most to ones in love… They see the sea and the tiptoeing stars barely touching the milky lanes. Under constellations Their faces glitter with words released…
“Language is not like the sun,
heating and scorching
but like the moon
keeping secrets
and the arcane magic of the night
throwing stars
in the lilacs’ claws
till dawn.” -Iulia Halatz