civil twilight // letters from the sky

Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy.

Bless all you lovers. Bless all those drinking deep from the cup of romance. Bless your boldness, it is not praised enough.
Thank you.
You are braver than i- afraid, scared, still drying off damp feelings of long ago.
You are blessed, you have given yourself to something unseen, unheard, only felt.
Bless your walks, your drinking, your eating, your love making, your sleeping.
All who truly love, i thank you. Thank you for your insanity, for your willing departure from this earth. You leave us, to go where very few tread. A paradise, longed for by many. We look open your journeys beginning with a joyous envy, and wave as you pass by.
Lovers, bless your kisses. May they taste sweeter than ice-cream. Let them melt over your chins and trickle down your necks.
Hold each other in the town squares, in the restaurants, in the theaters, on the bus, in the parks.
Take hand-fulls of each other, for all to see. For children to stare and elders to blush.
Remind those who used to love, that it still grows. That it is was the good kind of foolishness. That is wasn’t a game. That it wasn’t fake and powerless. Remind them that it still gets carried by the wind, by the motion of fingers and by the jewel of an eye.
Remind all around you that it still fulls the streets and it still fulls hearts and lungs and strengthen bones. That it still possesses. That it’s still wild and spontaneous, unknown and untamed. Just like your lover who stands before you, unexplored.
Kiss in the streets, touch on the avenues, and ignore the spiteful stares of the lonely. They only do so because they want the same thing, with all there hearts they do. They only look, because you are a rare flower, seen by very few. Your love is a rare flower, blossoming in the bed of paradise soil.

-Parcleve

It is hard to live a good life, but harder to live with the consequences of a bad one.

Please travel!

See this world with your very own eyes, breath in its air with your very own lungs. Let your God given hands touch the earth and feel its pulse, its landscapes, it’s people. Let your face feel the temperatures and climates.
If there’s anything i want to say to whoever reads this, it’s this. That there’s a world out there, waiting to teach, ready to embrace and be embraced. You don’t need a ticket from God, it’s his world, he is your ticket. You don’t need money, nothing is truly learned through comfort.
Go Go GO. Whoever tells you you’re foolish, tell them to bugger off!
Please excuse my passionate ignorance. These emotions can blind one, such as myself, to the circumstances of others.
Just hear this from a humbled man, broken by the world and its beauty, but reconstructed by the gentle hands of a lover.

-Parcleve