(Source: whitehairedyouth)
The meaning of life is just to be alive. It is so plain and so obvious and so simple. And yet, everybody rushes around in a great panic as if it were necessary to achieve something beyond themselves.
Alan Watts (via paperlover)
(Source: thepathfrommetoyou)
(Source: save-the-wasted-moments)
I’ve read this book in English, Spanish, and French. It may be my favorite.
Visits
There are visits without departures:
the stoic lips on the cup of coffee
in which you drank the very last time,
the sudden arrival of May and with it the first cut
of removal that numbs my consciousness,
the shiver of the first rain in this year
that interrupts my every dusk to dawn,
the breath of wind for which i opened
a window still entered through the door,
no matter what i will not desert the mope
of yesterday that waves hello to the present.
Because all of this does not take its leave
even if your arms come to visit again.
Trolley
It was distinctly apparent that more
shards of gravel passed by
than stars looking up at night.
Slow the young man’s kick
against the vehicle made even slower
by the strikes of stone
upon the rusty bearing.
I closed my eyes
to feel the gust of December
even if it was March.
Maybe by chance it would understand
the cold of my interior.
I looked in the distance
longing to burst to the destination
whatever that is, there is where i’m truly headed.
Hoping for what we knew would come.
Maybe there was no end to the journey
on the rails like the fan
of my sadness.
Until,
i was greeted and woken by the rumble of the train
at last,
The Corrs in Manila, October
Come on leave me breathless
