Somedays I feel old. I feel old today. Joints are aching. I have a killer headache. I really don’t feel like doing anything for the rest of the day.

Somedays I feel old. I feel old today. Joints are aching. I have a killer headache. I really don’t feel like doing anything for the rest of the day.

tylerknott:
Do not worry, it is back to where you came.  You will wrinkle, you will curl and wither and you will lose the shine you hold right now.  You will brown and crumble and stutter into the soil beneath you.  It is here, it has always been here, that the magic comes.  The magic that we begin again.
The Slow Dying of Autumn Leaves (by TylerKnott)

tylerknott:

Do not worry, it is back to where you came.  You will wrinkle, you will curl and wither and you will lose the shine you hold right now.  You will brown and crumble and stutter into the soil beneath you.  It is here, it has always been here, that the magic comes.  The magic that we begin again.

The Slow Dying of Autumn Leaves (by TylerKnott)

itsfortune:

“The Romance” by Dulce Daniel

(via paris2london)

Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder. — Rumi (via tarabodhisattva)

(via hennnypotter)

Nobody likes letting go. From our earliest moments. From birth ’til we’re six feet under, our instinct is to grab, grip, cling. To a finger, a bottle, a best friend, to a faded old racing form. Sometimes we hold on for dear life to the very things that keep us from actually living it. But that comes with an upside. It’s the way we feel when we finally let go. The trick, I guess, is not to find a way around the curve balls life serves up, but to live with them, in halfway happy, uneasy alliance. And to search for new things to cling to and when you finally find them, to hang on just as tight. And around and around we go. Holding on until the time comes to say goodbye. And like it or not, ready or not, you have to accept one universal truth. Life is messy. Always and for all of us. But a wise man once said. ‘Maybe messy is what you need.’ And I think he might be right. — In Plain Sight
To stand at the edge of the sea, to sense the ebb and flow of the tides, to feel the breath of a mist moving over a great salt marsh, to watch the flight of shore birds that have swept up and down the surf lines of the continents for untold thousands of year, to see the running of the old eels and the young shad to the sea, is to have knowledge of things that are as nearly eternal as any earthly life can be. — Rachel Carson, The Sea Around Us (via excessivebookshelves)

(via its-onlygene)