Graduate Student in Theology. Writing about gods, love, death, and beauty.
There is a garden, low and dark where trees grow shrouded in the mist. Where raven drowns out hopeful lark and cries alone to bleak abyss.
Upon an earth ere dawn of time I walked among primordial grove. Along with hill and tree divine, I bore the face of a true love.
Whispered to me has this fell secret been: That dreams of youth have not yet been in vain. For still there is a beauty not yet seen,
I hoped to wake upon an autumn morn, yet find that morning’s sun has naught to give. Instead I find that, from this dream, is torn -
Tea: the Perfect Friend for the End of the World
**I originally wrote this article shortly after the events of January 6, 2021. I'm not sure if you have been watching the news or not, but things have been a bit hairy lately. After impeaching a president, dealing with a global pandemic, and the scene in Washington D.C. a few months ago which could have very easily been a flashback from a Mad Max movie, I think its high time the world just stood still for a minute and had some tea. I think that would be good for us. But there's one major obstacle: The Western World (aside from perhaps the UK) has almost entirely lost touch with the science of perfect tea preparation. And we're only drifting further away from our once beloved leaf water as time goes on. I've been watching this alarming trend for the past number of years but have never felt much need to speak up about it publicly until now.
I Spent 90 Minutes in a Sensory Deprivation Tank
Today I paid money to float in a dark tank full of salty water for 90 minutes. Why? Well because my therapist isn’t able to see me until next week and this somehow seemed like a viable alternative when I made the appointment yesterday.
From my mind let not this fade: The paradise of bygone age. The bittersweet of Eden’s gate through which only one passage made.
I found her there amongst the barren tombs, laid on a bed of tear-stained fallen leaves. She weeps for my young heart with all its wounds,