the sun, it rises

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Do not go gentle into that good night
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

woundless:

X
O you whom I often and silently come where
you are, that I may be with you,
As I walk by your side, or sit near, or
remain in the same room with you,
Little you know the subtle electric fire that
for your sake is playing within me.—
Walt Whitman, original manuscript.

I am sorry that I make you so angry.

icancauseaconstellation:

1959 | Architect: John Matthias

clearingwayforthestars:

Josh Schultz