And so it goes from one year to the next
despite any attempt on the behalf of our water-logged vessels raised in protest; part of what we are is thrown into the sea
Lost— but not unknown
you will sooner fight a thousand battles and harbor a thousand more scars than ever stand beneath the moon that pulls the tide and not feel that tide pulling you
the churning cusps of silver reflect something of a fleeting eternity and identities consumed being pulled in tandem by the moon
thoughts shriek away from the shore and crash back with consistency,
with this we are satiated
we wait to be taken by day
returning to mourn another lost shred of what we were, a new sliver wedged inside our skin
and even after a thousand battles and a thousands scars the tide still whispers a promise to devour,
a promise that never wanes with the moon.
The sun said, ‘It hurts to become.’"
— Andrea Gibson (via themuslimavenger)
— Mark Twain (via themuslimavenger)