nothingToGno
@nothingtogno.bsky.social
On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous
the moon appeared, then vanished;
“which one is real?” the seeker asked
the teacher pointed to their breath
“which one is real?” the seeker asked
the teacher pointed to their breath
December 6, 2025 at 1:19 AM
the moon appeared, then vanished;
“which one is real?” the seeker asked
the teacher pointed to their breath
“which one is real?” the seeker asked
the teacher pointed to their breath
in the woods, two forms stand
one gnarled with bygone bluster
another taut by the sun’s insistence
in the space between
presence seems to gather
waiting for whoever pauses
long enough to notice
one gnarled with bygone bluster
another taut by the sun’s insistence
in the space between
presence seems to gather
waiting for whoever pauses
long enough to notice
November 28, 2025 at 4:34 PM
in the woods, two forms stand
one gnarled with bygone bluster
another taut by the sun’s insistence
in the space between
presence seems to gather
waiting for whoever pauses
long enough to notice
one gnarled with bygone bluster
another taut by the sun’s insistence
in the space between
presence seems to gather
waiting for whoever pauses
long enough to notice
student: “i have tended every breath, swept every corner of my path, yet the world still strikes without warning?”
teacher: “because the wind does not ask the candle whether it has lived a pure flame.”
teacher: “because the wind does not ask the candle whether it has lived a pure flame.”
November 26, 2025 at 10:38 AM
student: “i have tended every breath, swept every corner of my path, yet the world still strikes without warning?”
teacher: “because the wind does not ask the candle whether it has lived a pure flame.”
teacher: “because the wind does not ask the candle whether it has lived a pure flame.”
as an uncharted dawn unfolds
a seed choosing its own sun
shapes the sky it climbs
a seed choosing its own sun
shapes the sky it climbs
November 18, 2025 at 10:35 AM
as an uncharted dawn unfolds
a seed choosing its own sun
shapes the sky it climbs
a seed choosing its own sun
shapes the sky it climbs
the teacher did not answer;
they showed me an empty bowl,
fill this, they said,
with what does not sink inside you,
with what offers no weight,
except the kind that steadies
they showed me an empty bowl,
fill this, they said,
with what does not sink inside you,
with what offers no weight,
except the kind that steadies
November 17, 2025 at 10:39 AM
the teacher did not answer;
they showed me an empty bowl,
fill this, they said,
with what does not sink inside you,
with what offers no weight,
except the kind that steadies
they showed me an empty bowl,
fill this, they said,
with what does not sink inside you,
with what offers no weight,
except the kind that steadies
crimson on bare air
the last leaves ask the wind
what it means to let go
the last leaves ask the wind
what it means to let go
November 16, 2025 at 4:37 PM
crimson on bare air
the last leaves ask the wind
what it means to let go
the last leaves ask the wind
what it means to let go
along the long run,
we pause to watch, daresay compare.
no one else appears in the rear view;
only echoes.
and then we realize
it was our own breathing
arriving a few steps late.
the horizon never moves,
and somehow, that is the point.
we pause to watch, daresay compare.
no one else appears in the rear view;
only echoes.
and then we realize
it was our own breathing
arriving a few steps late.
the horizon never moves,
and somehow, that is the point.
November 13, 2025 at 10:41 AM
along the long run,
we pause to watch, daresay compare.
no one else appears in the rear view;
only echoes.
and then we realize
it was our own breathing
arriving a few steps late.
the horizon never moves,
and somehow, that is the point.
we pause to watch, daresay compare.
no one else appears in the rear view;
only echoes.
and then we realize
it was our own breathing
arriving a few steps late.
the horizon never moves,
and somehow, that is the point.
the earth always listens..
even as the sun retreats behind thought
and colors unspool from silence,
all that once was ordinary
pulses with the memory of light
even as the sun retreats behind thought
and colors unspool from silence,
all that once was ordinary
pulses with the memory of light
November 12, 2025 at 10:44 AM
the earth always listens..
even as the sun retreats behind thought
and colors unspool from silence,
all that once was ordinary
pulses with the memory of light
even as the sun retreats behind thought
and colors unspool from silence,
all that once was ordinary
pulses with the memory of light
by the lake,
lazy curls of wrinkled glass;
with each ripple
a fleeting gleam,
a reminder that turbulence
can carry its own kind of shine
lazy curls of wrinkled glass;
with each ripple
a fleeting gleam,
a reminder that turbulence
can carry its own kind of shine
November 10, 2025 at 10:39 AM
by the lake,
lazy curls of wrinkled glass;
with each ripple
a fleeting gleam,
a reminder that turbulence
can carry its own kind of shine
lazy curls of wrinkled glass;
with each ripple
a fleeting gleam,
a reminder that turbulence
can carry its own kind of shine
what breath is left
is the only field we can walk on
time does not gather;
it disappears
as it happens
is the only field we can walk on
time does not gather;
it disappears
as it happens
November 9, 2025 at 2:08 PM
what breath is left
is the only field we can walk on
time does not gather;
it disappears
as it happens
is the only field we can walk on
time does not gather;
it disappears
as it happens
future forests get to bed,
the hush before the hush,
a closing fist of promise
folded inside with light
the hush before the hush,
a closing fist of promise
folded inside with light
November 8, 2025 at 3:34 PM
future forests get to bed,
the hush before the hush,
a closing fist of promise
folded inside with light
the hush before the hush,
a closing fist of promise
folded inside with light
between the ebb and flow of muddy gods
the banks adjust and adapt
amidst this rearrangement
we keep trying to draw our names
on sands that refuse to stay put
over the remains of the day
we learn to let the river teach us how to be
the banks adjust and adapt
amidst this rearrangement
we keep trying to draw our names
on sands that refuse to stay put
over the remains of the day
we learn to let the river teach us how to be
November 7, 2025 at 10:56 AM
between the ebb and flow of muddy gods
the banks adjust and adapt
amidst this rearrangement
we keep trying to draw our names
on sands that refuse to stay put
over the remains of the day
we learn to let the river teach us how to be
the banks adjust and adapt
amidst this rearrangement
we keep trying to draw our names
on sands that refuse to stay put
over the remains of the day
we learn to let the river teach us how to be
a quiet riot of shadow and glow
cues our breath on ways to bear
the branches seem to infer the same
even as they brood across gold skies
yet nothing about them is sad
just witness that contrast is creed too
cues our breath on ways to bear
the branches seem to infer the same
even as they brood across gold skies
yet nothing about them is sad
just witness that contrast is creed too
November 6, 2025 at 10:56 AM
a quiet riot of shadow and glow
cues our breath on ways to bear
the branches seem to infer the same
even as they brood across gold skies
yet nothing about them is sad
just witness that contrast is creed too
cues our breath on ways to bear
the branches seem to infer the same
even as they brood across gold skies
yet nothing about them is sad
just witness that contrast is creed too
confetti drifts through the air
a jubilant unmaking of gravity;
somewhere, the horizon turns,
even the sun voting yes to begin anew
a jubilant unmaking of gravity;
somewhere, the horizon turns,
even the sun voting yes to begin anew
November 5, 2025 at 10:39 AM
confetti drifts through the air
a jubilant unmaking of gravity;
somewhere, the horizon turns,
even the sun voting yes to begin anew
a jubilant unmaking of gravity;
somewhere, the horizon turns,
even the sun voting yes to begin anew
seraphs coalesce from light
their wings stitched from drifting vapor
meanwhile, a seam in flight
their tiny bodies in states of flow
perhaps that is faith
to fly easy amidst what you cannot keep
to move without needing things to last
to navigate whilst keeping things whole
their wings stitched from drifting vapor
meanwhile, a seam in flight
their tiny bodies in states of flow
perhaps that is faith
to fly easy amidst what you cannot keep
to move without needing things to last
to navigate whilst keeping things whole
November 4, 2025 at 10:37 AM
seraphs coalesce from light
their wings stitched from drifting vapor
meanwhile, a seam in flight
their tiny bodies in states of flow
perhaps that is faith
to fly easy amidst what you cannot keep
to move without needing things to last
to navigate whilst keeping things whole
their wings stitched from drifting vapor
meanwhile, a seam in flight
their tiny bodies in states of flow
perhaps that is faith
to fly easy amidst what you cannot keep
to move without needing things to last
to navigate whilst keeping things whole
in the bright field within us,
old moments take root again
not as they were,
but as color, as warmth
they do not fade nor flag
they change their form,
and in their changing,
keep the world alive
old moments take root again
not as they were,
but as color, as warmth
they do not fade nor flag
they change their form,
and in their changing,
keep the world alive
November 3, 2025 at 10:40 AM
in the bright field within us,
old moments take root again
not as they were,
but as color, as warmth
they do not fade nor flag
they change their form,
and in their changing,
keep the world alive
old moments take root again
not as they were,
but as color, as warmth
they do not fade nor flag
they change their form,
and in their changing,
keep the world alive
some days, it feels like nothing at all
just respite;
a release of what was once clutched too tightly
and then, the stillness that follows
just respite;
a release of what was once clutched too tightly
and then, the stillness that follows
November 2, 2025 at 6:57 PM
some days, it feels like nothing at all
just respite;
a release of what was once clutched too tightly
and then, the stillness that follows
just respite;
a release of what was once clutched too tightly
and then, the stillness that follows
we might be able to step away from the noise of living
it’s permitted, even fitting of course that if we succeed in that endeavor
maybe silence is the one sound that will never stop following us
it’s permitted, even fitting of course that if we succeed in that endeavor
maybe silence is the one sound that will never stop following us
November 1, 2025 at 3:02 PM
we might be able to step away from the noise of living
it’s permitted, even fitting of course that if we succeed in that endeavor
maybe silence is the one sound that will never stop following us
it’s permitted, even fitting of course that if we succeed in that endeavor
maybe silence is the one sound that will never stop following us
the clock begins to chime at random hours
at first, everyone is startled and then amused
before long, the prayers are timed to its muddle
at first, everyone is startled and then amused
before long, the prayers are timed to its muddle
October 30, 2025 at 9:33 AM
the clock begins to chime at random hours
at first, everyone is startled and then amused
before long, the prayers are timed to its muddle
at first, everyone is startled and then amused
before long, the prayers are timed to its muddle
in the white and blush of the cosmos
the self loosens and the air hums
as if light relived the art of becoming
somewhere, a heart unclenches
not because it must
but because the colors coax it to
the self loosens and the air hums
as if light relived the art of becoming
somewhere, a heart unclenches
not because it must
but because the colors coax it to
October 29, 2025 at 9:44 AM
in the white and blush of the cosmos
the self loosens and the air hums
as if light relived the art of becoming
somewhere, a heart unclenches
not because it must
but because the colors coax it to
the self loosens and the air hums
as if light relived the art of becoming
somewhere, a heart unclenches
not because it must
but because the colors coax it to
leftovers in golden-brown
in grit and grace, they hold on
each dreaming of freeflight
not from any fall, but a gyral relief
in grit and grace, they hold on
each dreaming of freeflight
not from any fall, but a gyral relief
October 28, 2025 at 9:52 AM
leftovers in golden-brown
in grit and grace, they hold on
each dreaming of freeflight
not from any fall, but a gyral relief
in grit and grace, they hold on
each dreaming of freeflight
not from any fall, but a gyral relief
the air is neither summer nor sorrow,
just a slow disbanding of certainty;
the world seems to forget its edges
and petals linger mid-openfade
just a slow disbanding of certainty;
the world seems to forget its edges
and petals linger mid-openfade
October 27, 2025 at 9:42 AM
the air is neither summer nor sorrow,
just a slow disbanding of certainty;
the world seems to forget its edges
and petals linger mid-openfade
just a slow disbanding of certainty;
the world seems to forget its edges
and petals linger mid-openfade
each wingtip measures the repose
between motion and meaning
below them, the world unfolds
in its usual unfinished way
perhaps this is order..
not the flight,
but the space between
between motion and meaning
below them, the world unfolds
in its usual unfinished way
perhaps this is order..
not the flight,
but the space between
October 26, 2025 at 1:51 PM
each wingtip measures the repose
between motion and meaning
below them, the world unfolds
in its usual unfinished way
perhaps this is order..
not the flight,
but the space between
between motion and meaning
below them, the world unfolds
in its usual unfinished way
perhaps this is order..
not the flight,
but the space between
you can almost hear the roots calculating
the quiet arithmetic of moss running beneath;
nothing stirs, yet nothing has truly gone
it all lingers in the tawny light
where meaning refuses to settle
and silence wears its own weather
the quiet arithmetic of moss running beneath;
nothing stirs, yet nothing has truly gone
it all lingers in the tawny light
where meaning refuses to settle
and silence wears its own weather
October 25, 2025 at 12:35 PM
you can almost hear the roots calculating
the quiet arithmetic of moss running beneath;
nothing stirs, yet nothing has truly gone
it all lingers in the tawny light
where meaning refuses to settle
and silence wears its own weather
the quiet arithmetic of moss running beneath;
nothing stirs, yet nothing has truly gone
it all lingers in the tawny light
where meaning refuses to settle
and silence wears its own weather
we teach our mouths
to hold names with love
and we begin from there
not as strangers to them
but with the small mercies
of being ourselves to them
to hold names with love
and we begin from there
not as strangers to them
but with the small mercies
of being ourselves to them
October 24, 2025 at 9:53 AM
we teach our mouths
to hold names with love
and we begin from there
not as strangers to them
but with the small mercies
of being ourselves to them
to hold names with love
and we begin from there
not as strangers to them
but with the small mercies
of being ourselves to them