I Shall Not Want


Christ enthusiast, mountain loving, twenty-something.

Just a place for things I find inspring.

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another’s, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be, i say if this should be—
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face, and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

-e.e. cummings

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, ‘The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved him, and sometimes he loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held him in my arms.
I kissed him again and again under the endless sky.

He loved me, sometimes I loved him too.
How could one not have loved his great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have him. To feel that I have lost him.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without him.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep him.
The night is starry and he is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost him.

My sight tries to find him as though to bring him closer.
My heart looks for him, and he is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love him, that’s certain, but how I loved him.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch him hearing.

Another’s. He will be another’s. As he was before my kisses.
His voice, his bright body. His infinite eyes.

I no longer love him, that’s certain, but maybe I love him.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held him in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost him.

Though this be the last pain that he makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for him.

You cannot pray for an A on a test and study for a B. You cannot pray for a celestial marriage and live a telestial life. You cannot pray for something and act less.

Tad R. Callister (via grandviziertothesultanofagrabah)

God just spoke to me right here.

(via worshipgifs)

Always, always, always remember this.

(via tblaberge)

(via tblaberge)

I don’t want an idea of someone, I’m too weary for masks and false versions of people. I want a love that is filled with hope of growth, a love that says “I’m here, and I’m staying.” and I don’t know if I’ll ever hear that. I just want to be brave for that love, to risk the pain it might bring, so that I can experience the good that it could be. I just want a love that is true; should I not seek any less than that? Let me never offer anything less than a heart that is humble and ready to serve. Let me be the love that I seek, so that I can know what it means to love at all, and grow in that promise.
- T.B. LaBerge // I Want (via tblaberge)

(via laurenarlene)

After spending three days in NYC, I’m exhausted. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. How is it, that so many people “alive” in the city that never sleeps, seem so dead? They all walked around with such an air about them; like if they had on more expensive boots than I had on, they were instantly greater a person. New York City is consumeristic, materalistic, and one of the saddest places I have ever been. Praise the Lord I don’t live there.

My heart aches to be back in the mountains.