Peter Ilsted

I had a vision

Hm, eternity

Or: gods speak

A definitive factor of being human is not seeing the big picture.

It's very defining. Humans don't see the big picture. They don't see the celestial game, they don't even know their own nature. With a garden full of secrets on their own planet they haven't even stepped foot in, how could they? They know nothing of the blazing, terrifyingly holy power of a not quite ripe apple. Although they have crafted an entire worship around that particular fruit.

No, they know nothing of true eternity. Or maybe everything. If the unripe apple is holy to them too, does it matter that it's not my kind of holy? Does it matter that it's miniscule? There is no such thing as a smaller infinity, after all.

If I love you like the feeling of atoms assembling into wind gusts and solar flares, a human will love you like the feeling of that wind on their skin.

If I love you like the prayer of a million people to the greatest being they know, a god, a human will love you like the prayer of a child to the greatest being it knows, a mother.

If I love you like two black holes caught in each other's gravity, forcing each other into an unholy dance until they collide, a human loves you like watching two coins circling in a cone. Drawing spirals and spirals until they fall, with a gentle ping, into the hole in the middle.

Humans do not see the big picture.

Perhaps they are redefining holy as we speak.

Perhaps they make their own holy, and yet it is equal to mine.

My white friend doesn't know

That when I walk home and see blue uniforms my heart beat beats faster and faster

Like it's trying to fit a lifetime of heartbeats

Into a few agonising moments

Where I wonder if my lifetime is mine.

unforced error by Meghan O’Rourke

hope is a skill

Desperately needed to have this on my blog

“𝐵𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐”.

– 𝑂𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑒

unknown, from pinterest // Maurice (1987), dir. James Ivory // "Silent Noon" by Dante Gabriel Rossetti via poetryfoundation.org // Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975), dir. James Weir // Renoir (2012), dir. Gilles Bourdos

Ada Limón, from "The Widening Road", Sharks in the Rivers