If I were a waffle, ah, I would relish the sensation of butter warming in my cups, and syrup soaking into my being, and then that special moment when I would finally fold into myself, consuming my own body into one delicious, impossible bite which would wipe me from existence in a glory of sweetness.
“Having wet me with love,
why did you leave?
You abandoned your unwavering consort,
having ignited her lamp wick;
she’s like a pleasure boat
set out to drift on an ocean of craving.
Either way Mira’s dead—
unless you return.”—Mirabai, trans. Andrew Schelling (via the-unknown-friend)
“Yet even though the sense world mimics the divine like a shadow, and the divine world is totally self sufficient and independent, still it is impossible to postulate complete non-existence for the sensory world, for the very reason that it does reflect the world of the divine. The destruction of the world, then, can mean only that it is transformed, not that it goes out of existence altogether.”
The people on the neighboring property run a towing business, and sometimes at odd hours of the night I can look out my window and see the distant yellow lights of the tow truck flashing through the trees, and it looks just like fairy-lights.
5’7” -ish, or I was when I was twelve. I haven’t been properly measured in a long time. But I don’t reckon I’ve grown much since. I was an early bloomer, if you can call it blooming. If I gave a damn, I’d wear high heels and walk about pretending I was descended from a race of giants. However, I have little use for shoes most of the time. Barefoot and average! Woooo!