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Latest Posts by luminarysworlds - Page 2
This is beautiful and spot on π₯°
December 6 - i think of things. kids laughing kids crying kids learning to talk, tiny gods of chaos with their sticky hands and wide eyes, every sound they make an echo of something ancient. mothers cradling them, their spines curved like question marks, as if carrying the weight of the world in their arms isnβt enough, they still wonder if theyβre doing it right. butterfly wings, paper-thin, flutter in my mind, and i think of cursive handwriting, those loops and flourishes like secrets unraveling, a song written in ink. bird songs, bird sounds, the chatter of sparrows and the caw of crows blend into the distant hum of kids calling out to each other, voices sharp and soft like the sun breaking through the winter haze. god, i love the winter sun. it kisses your face like itβs shy, but it lingers, doesnβt it? it holds on. sometimes i want to do something big, something huge, something that makes me look in the mirror and think, - 'yeah, sheβs okay. sheβs worth it.' long nails, red nails, sharp enough to cut through the layers of me i donβt like. i think about getting a manicure, a pedicure, about letting someone else shape me into something pretty, something polished. the sun feels like a brushstroke on my skin, something deliberate and golden, something that makes the chaos of the world seem softer.
i think of the one who lives far away. thereβs a kindness in his words, a gentleness that feels like the edge of something meaningful, but i wonder if itβs real or just a reflection of what i want to see. but him him him, the one i call mine, he persists in my mind like it's his home. i donβt want to be the more obsessed one, the one who bends, who believes too much, who feels too much who hopes too much. i want to be adored. i want to beΒ dreamt about, someone they canβt stop thinking of. maybe he doesnβt like me for me. maybe he likes me because i believe in him, because i listen, because i know how to turn his fears into something smaller, something manageable. maybe he likes how i make him feel, not who i am. mom doesnβt like pigeons. i think theyβre kind of beautiful. they fly in messy, chaotic patterns that somehow make sense, and when they land, they look so ordinary, so unassuming, like they donβt know what it means to touch the sky. i wish i could be like them. i wish i could fly with them, circle over cities, over him, over myself, and laugh at how small it all looks from above. maybe then iβd stop taking myself so seriously, stop giving so much weight to things that donβt deserve it. just a flicker, something so small and unimportant it doesnβt even cast a shadow. iβd make a home with the ants if theyβd let me. weaver ants, those little architects of leaves, always so busy, so focused. they used to bother me, always crawling, always taking over, but now i think weβve reached some kind of truce. they donβt invade my cookies, and i donβt crush them under my thumb. thereβs a respect there, i think. or maybe iβve just grown tired of fighting things that are so much smaller than me, so much simpler.
itβs strange how you can learn to coexist with something that used to bother you. i wonder if thatβs what love is supposed to feel like, not this endless hunger, not this sharp, desperate ache, but something quieter, something that can live beside you without needing to consume you. but then, the winter sun touches my face again, and i think about kids. kids laughing, kids learning to talk, their words soft and unsure, like butterfly wings brushing against your ears. i think about butterfly wings, about their colors and fragility, and how they never seem to notice their own beauty. i think about my hunger for love how I hate the madness of it and still can't help getting lost in it. i think of how i want to do something, something that makes me like myself the way i like the winter sun or the idea of birds laughing. maybe thatβs why i think about long nails and manicures, about the tiny things that make me feel human, grounded. but then the world pulls me back to its noise when all i want is a quiet life, a life where i can just be. where the sun feels warm, the birds keep flying, and maybe, just maybe, someone loves me in a way that feels like sunlight.
This song always has my back π₯°
E. Balfour Browne.
'Winter Sunset'
βπ¨π πππΎ π²πΊπ π©ππΊπ π¬πππππΊπππ ππΏ π’ππ πππΊπ½π, πππΎ π¦π¦-ππΎπΊπ ππ π½ π³πΎπ π ππππ½πΎ π¬πππππππ π₯πΎπππππΊπ ππ πΊ π»πΎπ πππΎπ½ πΌπΎπ πΎπ»ππΊππππ πππΊπ π½ππΊππ πππΌπππππ πΎπ, ππΊπππ πΎπππππππΊπππ, πΊππ½ πΌππ πππΊππ πΎπππ πππΎππ πΏπππ πΊπππππ½ πππΎ ππππ π½ ππ πππππ ππΏ πΏππππ.
π πππΎππ½πΎπΎπ π½πππΎ π½πΎπΎπ ππππ πππΎ ππππ π½ ππΏ πππΌππ πππ πππππππ ππΊππ½π-ππ πΏπππΊππππ πΊππ½ πΎππΌπππππππ, πΏπππ½ πππππππππ; πΊππ½ ππΌππΎππππΏππΌ πΊππ½ ππΎπ½ππΌπππΊπ π πΎπΌππππΎπ ππ πΌππ ππππΊππππ, ππππππππππ, ππΊππΎ πππΎπΌππΎπ πΊππ½ ππππΌππΎπ½πΎπ ππΌπ.
π³ππΎ πΏπππΎ π½πΊπ πΎππΎππ πΌππ ππππΊππΎπ½ ππ πΊ ππΊππΊπ½πΎ π½πππ π¬πΊππ π²πππΎπΎπ πππΎππΎ πΊπππΎππ½πΎπΎπ π½ππ πΎπ πΊπ»πππΊππΎ πΌππππππΎπ πΊππ½ πΎππΌππππΊπππππ πΊπ π πππΎπΌππΎπ ππΏ πΏππππ."
sources: meteoriitta & anniecollinge πβπ«
A love like this π₯Ή
Another day another - another reflection on life
This is like my favorite photo of me I have ever seen
ποΈποΈ
π
βDayyyumβ π¬
Click to read whole piece clearly π
the last part got me π»ππ»
AND THE GHOST IN MY LIVING ROOM SAYS by june hart
When your bestie sends old photos of you guys eating sweet potatoes and drinking smoothies by a lake π₯Ήπ I love you Jamie π
ππ
Time to clean caches (π) after a crazy, stressful and busy day preparing the pieces for the exhibition and after finishing all the details for the first concert of our audiovisual band Cemento Musgo, both at Ribela Love Nature Fest.
Piece: Elude
cloe
Lol you can hear my bf burp in the video at the end ππ love it
Inspired by someone elseβs art today
πΌοΈβ€οΈπ¨
Definitely a great purchase.
Each card give detailed descriptions of tarot card so you can really understand tarot!
dolores nemi caldentey
The Empress - Tarot Card byΒ Melissa Houpert
This artist on Instagram