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Blue's Twilight Symphony

In a forest where whispers of twilight sing, Lives Blue, a fairy with gossamer wings. Her palette is woven from wonder and light, She paints the dawn and ushers the night.

With a flick of her brush, the sun starts to rise, Blush pinks and golds fill the sleepy skies. At dusk, she twirls in a radiant dance, Sculpting the clouds in a vibrant romance.

Her laughter spills in a fiery thread, Of amber, lilac, and rosy red. Each brushstroke hums, each hue takes flight, A fleeting canvas of dreams alight.

So next time you gaze at a blossoming hue, Think of the fairy whose name is Blue. For in every sunrise and sunset you see, She’s weaving a magical tapestry.

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The only thing holding me together right now is the fact that I'm too tired to fall apart.

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Disposing, Los Angeles -- 2024

Etsy

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nick dantzer

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“Don’t look away. Look straight at everything. Look it all in the eye, good and bad.”

— Henry Miller

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What Does Christmas Mean to You?

Is it bustling department stores,

Crowded aisles and hurried chores?

Is it fairy lights that softly glow,

And blow-up Santas in the snow?

Is it hot chocolate by a fire’s warm hue,

A simple moment made just for you?

Is it a white elephant game, full of cheer,

With friends in sweaters, loud and sincere?

Is it midnight mass and carols sung,

Voices lifting where bells are rung?

Is it the angel, perched up high,

Gleaming bright against the sky?

Is it family gathered, stories retold,

Memories cherished, precious as gold?

Or waking beside the love of your life,

Wrapped in warmth, far from strife?

Is it snowmen and sleds, children at play,

In a world painted white by winter’s display?

What does Christmas mean to you?

A single moment, or countless, too?

Whatever it is, let it be true,

And fill your heart the whole year through.

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Artus Scheiner, Illustration of the tale “The Little Stars of Gold”

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Czeslaw Milosz, New and Collected Poems: 1931-2001

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Margaret Atwood, from Paper Boat: Selected Poems; "He Shifts from East to West,"

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“you cannot find peace by avoiding life” - Virginia Woolf

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I struggle with reality,

Confusing fiction and fantasy,

Blurring the lines where shadows meet light,

Like Jackson Pollock my mind explodes,

And waking nightmares anchor my soul.

The whispers of what could be

Echo louder than what is,

And the weight of truth feels less solid

Than the mirage I’ve built to survive.

I wander between worlds,

A traveler lost in realms unseen,

Where hope and despair hold equal sway—

A dreamer chained to illusions,

A realist afraid to believe.

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by alexkittoephotos

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Yeah now we've entered the back pain stage

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It wasn’t hard loving you,

It was a gentle breeze,

Brushing over the skin,

Where time seems to pause,

The flush of fingertips

That inevitably interlock,

As though the universe conspired for it.

It was a slow morning,

Curled up with the cats,

The sunlight pooling on the bed,

Each moment soft, unhurried,

A quiet kind of magic.

How could I not

Fall in love with that?

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