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When two rivers meet, it’s called a confluence.

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Maybe plants are just one giant metaphor for the way this world works. Sometimes we have to fall down to learn how to get back up again. Sometimes we have to lose what we’ve held dear in order to chase what’s of value. Sometimes we have to say goodbye because everything is impermanent, we ourselves are impermanent, and goodbyes are healthy sometimes.

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My darling, every seven years your skin cells die and renew themselves, renew you. There will be skin he has never touched and the bad memories in the shape of tattoos will fade.

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Is it held within the quiet of summer nights, beating somewhere in the velvet darkness?

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I feel like the bird falling with broken wings

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I try to remember that I can come back. That I can have a night like this again, tomorrow maybe.

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Oh wild eyes, oh wide heart.

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Gravity doesn’t keep you footed on it, the Earth holds you by the soles, saving you from floating to where your head shouldn’t be.