@Mp

I am a Star-Child Resident of Earth In-L♥ve with
All Random Things Considered to be Organic and Inorganic.

This blog is a reflection of my love for words.
Its purpose also is to serve as reminders and to help encourage myself
and anyone else who may need it.

“ I like stars more than anything else. I watch them as I fall asleep and wonder who lives on them and how to get there. The night sky looks so friendly with all those little twinkling eyes ”

—    Snufkin, Tove Jansson (via petrichour)

(via petrichour)

“ There’s a voice stuck inside the kitchen drain and it’s asking for you.
All you wanted was a small country
for your airplane heart to land in.
A house big enough for all your ghosts to sleep soundly.
A place to put the tremble in you.
You unburied your mistakes and this is what you’re left with.
Dirt in places you can’t reach.
You should have known it would be this way.
That it would hurt the way it always does
when you break yourself like a dream
you can’t mosaic back together.
Baby, I know how bad it is.
You still haven’t figured out a way to forgive yourself for the nights
you treated your body like jailhouse.
So you spend your days
punishing the prisoner inside of you
and waiting for calls from people
who don’t deserve your voice.
So you forget your mother’a kindness
and forget the phone numbers of people who could have loved you.
You can’t help but think
that it was supposed to be
better than this.
That you were supposed to be
be the one made of fire.
Made of something bigger than the hurt.
Baby, everything is still so cold,
and winter doesn’t know how
to tell you that it’s not your fault this time.
I wish I could have been the one to
take it all out of you.
To put the ache into a box and send it away.
But your hands are the only ones
strong enough to carry the hurt.
The only ones strong enough to pull it out until it doesn’t exist anymore. ”

—    Y.Z, lullaby promise (via rustyvoices)

(via deeplystained)

You Reading This, Be Ready

fables-of-the-reconstruction:

Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?

When you turn around, starting here, lift this
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day. This interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life –

What can anyone give you greater than now,
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?

William Stafford

“ There would be nothing to frighten you if you refused to be afraid. ”

—    Mahatma Gandhi (via purplebuddhaproject)