Staring at stars

“She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars.” (Stardust, Neil Gaiman)

What do you see when you look up at the night sky? The magnitude of the infinity of the stars overwhelms, and at once I would catch my breath, amazed by the sea of tiny twinkles so so far away.

A galaxy of lost thoughts; a universe of hidden dreams. The stars hold secrets. All of them kept in gem encrusted jewel boxes hung high in the velvet black sky. Their whispers soundless sparkles.

What do you see when you look up at the night sky?

Sleep

After burrowing a hole in the blanket
He still chose to sleep on my thigh



Where I now feel the little thumping of his heartbeat

Pinpricks in my...

heart, my irregular beating heart,
my soul, sodden, trodden soul,
my mind, unsettled, chaotic mind.

"why do you look so sad?"
"you speak to me with words and I look at you with feelings."

"everything needs an entrance and exit."

How true; purgatory is for the wretched.

Absence does not

Absence sometimes makes not the heart fonder
Sometimes absence makes the memory fade faster
The sight, scent, touch and sound get thinner
Like stirring a teaspoon of milk into a cup of black coffee
All traces of white disappear into black
Turning into brown
The colour of dirt and dusty forgotten sunsets

Sometimes absence makes the silence a trusty companion
Absence sometimes makes the hollow whole again
So sometimes, and for some, absence does not a fonder heart make

Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

"somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands"
— somewhere i have never travelled, e.e. cummings

of green balls and sweet spots

a few things came to light today at tennis:

(from here)

1. i blink when i hit the sweet spot
2. my shoes are in a dire state of disrepair
3. i need a new pair of shoes

(these are sooo pretty!)

4. i cannot return a spin ball
5. i always pull a muscle on my left thigh
6. tennis is like cycling; you only need to learn it once
7. but unlike cycling you need constant playing to be good
8. tennis skirts can be sexy as hell
9. i like to bounce the balls on my racquet while waiting

Fortyeight minutes past midnight

Twigs as wings on bone shoulders, with cotton balls/ feathers unripe/ forsaken flight.
(a photographic image of a girl standing in front of bare branches)

- "everything is illuminated"
(a thought-provoking answer)

I tried not to wonder but the attempt has rendered me sleepless. I think about not thinking and it has made me think even more. What made me happy has now made me sad.
(irony)