myth moodboards → poseidon
the seas were his to rule, and his alone.
moodboard: the song of achilles
I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind,
by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth.
I would know him in death, at the end of the world.
“Name one hero who was happy.” I considered. Heracles went mad and killed his family; Theseus lost his bride and father; Jason’s children and new wife were murdered by his old; Bellerophon killed the Chimera but was crippled by the fall from Pegasus’ back. "You can’t.“ He was sitting up now, leaning forward. "I can’t.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
What is human? An ability to reason? To imagine? To love or grieve?
If so, we are more human than any human ever will be.
“We Could Not Listen” By Emma Bleker (via stolenwine)
There is a mouth
to these things.
The thistles you insist
cannot reach out
sink into those undone pieces,
clawed out cloth picked
until the loops
form fingers.
Until we dilated pupils
give way to gaze.
It wishes to make love
to us with
its teeth.
It wishes to tug until
we unwind,
left only to our apologies
our “you know how this goes”
our “didn’t we both know
what this meant?”
It owns a mouth.
Which is to say,
you can no longer ask without
the forest buckling, those
tricky knees, a
concave surrender into
worn-in, imminent skin.
“It tried,” the burial will say,
“It tried not to be
what it was born as.”
to these things.
The thistles you insist
cannot reach out
sink into those undone pieces,
clawed out cloth picked
until the loops
form fingers.
Until we dilated pupils
give way to gaze.
It wishes to make love
to us with
its teeth.
It wishes to tug until
we unwind,
left only to our apologies
our “you know how this goes”
our “didn’t we both know
what this meant?”
It owns a mouth.
Which is to say,
you can no longer ask without
the forest buckling, those
tricky knees, a
concave surrender into
worn-in, imminent skin.
“It tried,” the burial will say,
“It tried not to be
what it was born as.”
Mortality wrapped in an immortal skin | l.x (via thesleeplesspoetsnw)
Is it our fate
Lonely spirits that we are
To wander forevermore;
Bound
To this earthly body
That still holds sway over our souls
Lonely spirits that we are
To wander forevermore;
Bound
To this earthly body
That still holds sway over our souls