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“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.” — Pierre Teilhard de Chardin When I Die Bury me beneath the hush of pine,where resin weeps in golden threadsand roots murmur secrets to the soil. Mark me not with chiseled stone,no name, no weight of letters—let the
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Are you patriotic? What does being patriotic mean to you? Are you patriotic? Absolutely. To me, patriotism means supporting and celebrating my country in every way possible—especially in something as pure and unifying as sports. Football (soccer) is the most popular game in the world, with 3.5 billion fans, and I always want the USA
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Unravel the ocean’s veiled skin,a spectral hush between me and earth,blue sinews clutching my limbs,whispering weightless lies— float, drift, pull—further, further—or drown. The tide chants hymns of urgency,promises carved in salt:“arrive, achieve, or vanish.” I claw towards the vanishing edge,where breath and bone dissolve,where the Fixx hums through vacant veins,a beach of endings waiting,waiting—for me
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Umm… I don’t know? Because if I did, wouldn’t that mean it was intentional? Wait, what? And now I’m spiraling down a philosophical rabbit hole. So… yes. I mean, no. Actually, that’s a hard no. (I think.)
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“I wasn’t heartbroken, just lonely in that special way where your friends exist like emergency plastic car keys—useful in theory, but likely to snap off in the lock when you actually need them.” 3:30 AM Came Fast 3:30 came fast this morning, and the Writing Gods demanded my attendance. I rolled out of bed, bleary-eyed,
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**Phantom girl, adrift in air,woven light and whispered prayer.Mirror seas and silent chime,lost between the pulse of time. Veil of glass, a frozen blur,echoes hum but never stir.Stars dissolve, yet still they burn—step beyond, unmask, return.** a response to this song that i always found mysterious Lyrics Every day, every mightIn that all old familiar
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She loved being chased. Not just for the thrill, but for the way it made her feel less alone. Like the world still turned for her, like someone, somewhere, believed she was worth the pursuit. She hated being caught. Hated the moment when the hands reached her waist, when desire became expectation, when the chase
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“Whatever role I play in life, I hope it is deeply rooted in true, meaningful friendship.” bb grey Luna. It’s the early hours of Valentine’s Day, and I find myself sitting here, reflecting on what I want to say—something meaningful, something useful to us. Today’s writing prompt asked: If there were a biography about you,
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The moon spills silver across your skin,soft shadows tracing secrets I ache to unveil.You stir beneath my gaze, a breath—half a sigh,half an invitation I dare not refuse.Heat lingers between us, unsaid but understood,a silent language written in shivers and sighs. bb grey Let me linger, leisurely, with the weight of my stare,as you lie—naked,
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“A man may don many garments—some ill-fitting, some absurd—stitched from the words of others. But the cut of one’s true self cannot be tailored by another’s hand.” bb grey-hyde “Dr. J. E. Kyll and Mr. Feels: A Treatise on Overthinking and Emotional Minefields” The hour finds me in contemplation, my mind still burdened by the
“All colors made me happy even grey.” Nabokov, Pale Fire
A German carpenter by day working hard to follow a Jewish carpenter, exploring writing as a creative outlet. Passionate about learning through practice and observation.
BB Grey--musings 