Art is a journey into the most unknown thing of all - oneself. Nobody knows his own frontiers… I don’t think I’d ever want to take a road if I knew where it led.

Louis Kahan
    Whatever I looked at was alive, everything had a voice,
but I never found out were you a friend, an enemy,
was it winter, summer? Smoke, singing, midnight heat.
I wrote thousands of lines. Not one told me.


333 notes
  1. odettecarotte reblogged this from kdecember
  2. kdecember reblogged this from poetryloves
  3. silentsouls reblogged this from follow-the-fox
  4. velvetrazorwire reblogged this from an-itinerant-poet
  5. jenchu reblogged this from ellephanta
  6. bedbathoryandbeyond reblogged this from asymptotejournal
  7. givemelyricismorgivemedeath reblogged this from asymptotejournal
  8. fluia reblogged this from smothy
  9. drunkhermione reblogged this from ellephanta
  10. danshaneburns reblogged this from athousandmistingdawns
  11. athousandmistingdawns reblogged this from cartographe
  12. risingdeeper reblogged this from yama-bato
  13. tresi reblogged this from an-itinerant-poet
  14. filthiestlaugh reblogged this from ellephanta
  15. siddharthaknows reblogged this from teaviant