Poem | grace
a sole splinter of gratitudeundoes years of harmlike a solitary ray of sunreveals the secrets of the dark
bright poppy forest potential poet explores a fairytale life
a sole splinter of gratitudeundoes years of harmlike a solitary ray of sunreveals the secrets of the dark
the secret of growingis not: living like forever youthfulis not: veiling the unwelcomeis not: saying yes to all but you the secret of growingis not so secret at all it lies in duly planting your feetone in front of the otherembracing what waswelcoming what is to comeand daring to look up aboveso the sunlight can … More Poem | the secret of growing
the best days in your lifeare those that turn sleepingintoan amateur version of dreamingwhen the world around youworks hard to mould your heartintoa bursting core of gratitude after you gave grand desiresmore than few gentle pushesintorealities many dreams longed for
following the lightof my own torchto discover placesno one’s gone before few footsteps leadingdown this quiet descentfewer footsteps escortmy social delinquent please do not confuseme with being astrayas my strength is whistlingwhile going my own way
Jag ser dig I click on the correct English translation and the little green devil owl gives me an elated wink. Dingaling! At least DuoLingo appreciates me… Oh no, Elle, what happened? I feel invisible, that’s what’s happened. Despite that being far from new, it still hurts when people don’t see me. Especially when those … More Personal | Invisible Pains
grey clouds part but slightlythe sun shines on tree leaves lightlya whimsical play of light and darkintangibly leaving a golden mark the universe’s design hasgot me thinking that maybetrue happiness is kept alivein the beauty of komorebi
Dear Elle, You are so much more than “a lose chain”, someone who keeps carrying water to the sea, against better knowledge. You just don’t see it yet. Even on your worst days, you are beautiful. On those days, it’s just excruciatingly difficult to hear anything else than the demons in your head, spewing their … More Personal | Dear Elle Vampa
language, wordson paper or screenwritten or spokenbrutal truths orbeautiful liesdancing in booksrevelling in musicharsh and darkor light and playful my most gratefully acquainted skillis the one who lets me appreciate at willin every syllable, sentence, and versethe undeniable beauty of pretty words
If you’d ask my younger self what she’d turn out to be at nearly 40 (I need to stop calling myself that; I have more than a year to go before that first digit takes another move upwards), she would never be able to guess reality correctly. My 8-year-old-self (or something close to it) was … More Personal | Childhood Dreams
it’s not that i can’t do it alonebut I feel so lost without youthe sun does not rise the samemy nighttime does not turn to daycolours remain bleak and grey it’s not that i am ready for youstill i wish you’d come and find meto proudly hold my hand in yoursand finally break this witches’ … More Poem | number one