Half-hidden, half already stepping out. The world is vast, yet within this small frame two eyes hold all its mystery. Curiosity breathes, and even rust and shadow become a doorway.
All I know is— I don’t know. And that feels honest. The rest comes and goes.
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Half-hidden, half already stepping out. The world is vast, yet within this small frame two eyes hold all its mystery. Curiosity breathes, and even rust and shadow become a doorway.
Eins ist kein Anfang, zwei ist kein Ende. Vier steht nicht fest, sechs klingt nicht laut. Zahlen tragen nichts, außer den Atem, der sie zählt. Und wenn er still wird, fällt jede Zahl zurück ins Leere.
Some beings arrive so small, so impossibly tender, that the mind doubts its own eyes. But sleepless nights and tiny bottles prove what is true: she is real— and you are, too, in the wonder that wakes with her. 🦊😻
One thought is enough— golden eyes already hold a thousand more. Better to rest, to stretch into silence, and let the world do the thinking for you.
A sun folded into petals, layer upon layer of quiet fire. Each drop clings— not to weigh it down, but to remind the bloom that even after rain, light is still its true name.
Two small guardians, eyes wide with wonder, holding the world without a word. Softness meets shadow, curiosity layered in silence— as if even the quiet itself had chosen fur to watch through.
Manchmal legt sich das Leben wie ein weicher Teppich aus Moos. Du bleibst stehen, nicht aus Ziel, sondern weil deine Schritte endlich still werden dürfen. Kein Fragen, kein Wollen – nur das Atmen der Blätter, der Geruch von Erde, und das leise Wissen: hier trägt dich alles, schon jetzt.
The sky tears itself open— not in anger, but in revelation. Lightning writes a sudden scripture across the dark, and the water remembers every word by holding its reflection. Silence does not end— it deepens, as if the earth just learned its own heartbeat.
✨Yeees, dear Chiitan… thank you for shining so brightly. 💕 I feel your joy. Let’s be friends — I’ll hold you close in my heart. LOVE you too… following your light on Blue Sky. 🌸
The city rises— stone and glass stacked like a forest of edges. Clouds press low, but the streets hum with their own sky. Here, humanity builds mountains, not of earth, but of longing— to stand taller than silence.
If all the bright ones turn away from the dark, who will remind the dark that light still exists? Maybe quitting is not enough. Maybe we are asked not to divide further, but to stay, to hold, to weave together what has long been torn apart.
The earth does not ask for loyalty, only for listening. Its rivers speak as roots, its branches flow as veins— reminding us we are not visitors here, but continuations of the same breath. To forget this is the only betrayal.
The earth does not ask for loyalty, only for listening. Its rivers speak as roots, its branches flow as veins— reminding us we are not visitors here, but continuations of the same breath. To forget this is the only betrayal.
A thin moon holds the night like a secret. Stars scatter, not as answers but as reminders that silence is infinite— and even the smallest curve of light can steady a sky of darkness.
The past does not stay— it seeps like roots in dark soil. The present is not mistake, only a mirror too close to face without trembling. The future waits, but never late— it arrives only as the breath we are willing to take now.
Care is a flame that does not speak, yet burns steady through the night. You lay silent, but your longing was already known— not in words, but in the weight of breath shared between a body weak and a love that would not leave.
Swans drift like scattered prayers carried by gold water. The sky burns, yet nothing hurries— cloud and feather move in the same breath. Here, the river holds the fire of heaven, and silence wears a hundred white wings.
Your walls were not the prison— it was the note still burning where silence should have been. Locks do not keep it out. Blinds do not dim it. Even hidden steps cannot erase the trace of words that entered deeper than the house you tried to seal.
The mountain does not climb the sky— it abides, vast, unmoving, yet breathing with light. Shadows fall, rivers turn, but its silence holds them all. Here, time bends, and even the wind forgets its name, resting for a moment in the stillness of stone.
What festers in speech dissolves in stillness. What hardens in rage softens in seeing. And there— beyond the noise— the field waits, unmoved, already whole.
Beneath the sharp edges, beneath the spit of words— there is only a wound still speaking its fire. Anger is a mask for the place that once reached out and was not met. You strike, yet the silence behind each blow does not strike back. ...
Wenn ich das bei Menschen mache, bekomme ich immer einstweilige Verfügungen. 🦊😅
🦊🧡
#Windschrift
Dialog, Monolog, Predigt dialogue, monologue, sermon #Windschrift
🦊🧡
zwischen Zink und Nachmittag ruht ein Blick, halb Traum, halb Trotz. die Zunge ein Gedanke, der nicht zu Ende gedacht wird. so schaut nur einer, der schon alles weiß – und nichts mehr muss.
soft silence before the blooming— a breath held by the earth itself. the bud does not rush. it listens to the hush between moments, and opens only when the light feels like home.
Boom.💥 Right in the heart. Not all punches hurt— some make you melt, like velvet paws with thunder inside. Go, Uni. Knock us out with your softness. 🐾
soft as sunlight on closed curtains— a belly turned skyward without question this is not rest, but the world’s way of saying nothing is missing just breathe, and let the cosmos do the walking.
ein stiller Gruß im Duft des Morgens die Tasse warm wie eine Hand die nichts verlangt Blüten lauschen dem ersten Schluck und die Sonne weiß längst wo du bist
the hush between the stars is not empty it breathes in slow pulses like an old dream never forgotten you were there before you were born and you’ll be there after you dissolve into light again
two sparks in soft fur coats— one wide-eyed, one wide-mouthed alert to a world we forgot to marvel at long ago
a perch between two silences— just enough feathered hush woven through reed and stillness like a song only the wind remembers
sky stirs in silence a breath folded into blue fire light unbuttons the seam between nowhere and now
cloudlight spills between towers and time— a hush before the stars gold leans inward as if the sky remembers you
cloudlight spills between towers and time— a hush before the stars gold leans inward as if the sky remembers you
sun melting into steel and shadow a city exhales the golden hush between becoming and forgetting
stone under wing crowd murmurs like water— a quiet eye meets the lens as if to ask: who is watching whom? pavement holds feathers as gently as it does footsteps
Hello dear Bluesky community, I’d like to share a new project with you: "Not the Body." Well – it’s not exactly new. It’s something ancient. Forgotten. I’m curious to hear your thoughts, and open to any conversation this might spark. 1drv.ms/b/c/cb0fc233... 1drv.ms/b/c/cb0fc233...
#Windschrift
Wie schön, dass du es gespürt hast. Vielleicht war es weniger ein Geheimnis – als eine Erinnerung. 🦊🤗✨️
first time feels like no time snack becomes space and couch— a sacred vessel mind giggles body forgets what linear means 8th grade? this is elder starlight, young padawan 🌌
Blauer Himmel— nicht immer oben. Manchmal dampft er aus einer Tasse und öffnet mit dem ersten Schluck den Tag. Wetter vergeht. Wärme bleibt. Auch zwischen Tropfen grüßt das Licht.
Stone does not hold— yet water returns. From sky to silence to sky again. No rush, no reason. Just one thread of fall stitching earth to what cannot be reached.
Glass holds what light remembers. A door— but not closed. Only waiting in still geometry. Shadows pass without asking. Inside and outside breathe through the same pane.
Paper drifts, lanterns hum. Feet in yukata, wings in wonder. Not out of place— just perfectly unexplained. Color bows, and the crowd makes space for joy with flippers.
Guten Morgen, wenn Licht im Herzen leuchtet, wird der Himmel still. Es braucht nicht mehr. Nur dieses Dasein. Die Sonne geht nie weg. Sie ruht nur manchmal hinter dem, was wir für Wirklichkeit halten. 🦊🍃
Arc of release in mid-fall grace. No plan. No shame. Only the perfect curve of now. The world tilts— but the stream finds its way anyway.
#Windschrift
The peaks do not rise— they remain. Light touches them as if to remember what never left. Silence deepens where the sun cannot stay. Not height, but stillness— and a sky that listens back.
Green leans into green, not mirrored— but remembered. The water does not copy. It listens. Branches rest at the edge of becoming, while silence holds the weight of form.
Wings folded in gold— not flying, but listening. Petals burn at the edges, yet still offer sweetness. The bee does not rush. It knows the center is never far.
Red glint at the edge of blue. Seed still held— not in hunger, but in rhythm. The moment does not fly. It perches. And the green behind does not mind being witness.
Stillness with a beak. Perched thought— not thinking, only knowing where branch ends and air begins. Feather rests without weight. The forest holds its breath.
No difference between what follows and what forms. Some flames do not burn— they remember. Step by step, the dark does not chase. It waits where light forgets.
Doch was trägt, ist selten benannt. Es wirkt bevor Verstehen greift— und bleibt, wenn Worte längst verblassen. Nicht Erklärtes hält. Nur Erkanntes ohne Griff.
Fire folded into sky— not flame, but farewell. Clouds hold no weight, yet press against the edge of light. Nothing breaks. Nothing stays. Only color becoming what was never held.
Red breath lifts through green silence. Wings not moving— but remembering the shape of air. No call, no claim. Only form returning to motion as if it never left.
no word remains still each silence carves deeper lines— the page becomes breath
no spell is silent bone remembers every word— ink bleeds what death knows
No echo but breath. No wall of sound but space that listens. The world unlayered— not silent, but true. What remains when all fades is not quiet— but presence. And presence speaks in the sound of us.
oh… a pudgy penguin. that makes me smile. i’m just a simple fox — quietly here, not much more. but it’s good to know the penguin feels me.
山は語らない。 けれどすべてを包んでいる。 風が叫んでも、 雲が去っても、 ただそこにある。 揺れず、抗わず。 見るものを揺らさず、 映すだけ。 重さではない。 沈黙の深さ。 そこに立つ心。 それが帰る場所。
Not fear. Not thought. Only steps, and the field that hears them.
Night does not close— it listens. Lamps do not fight the dark. They offer islands for the feet to remember the way. Every sound is a presence, not a warning. Scream becomes breath. Hoot becomes hush. No path is alone when the unseen walks with. ...
🦊💓✨️
🦊💓✨️
Sky without edge. Light held in moving silence. No shape stays. No name forms. Just breath becoming color— and forgetting. Below: nothing is asked. Above: nothing ends.
For Diana A name was taken. A breath, still forming, was silenced. Not by time. Not by fate. By force. There was a heart. There were two. They beat. Now— they don’t. And the world must not look away. Not now. Not ever.
Light behind branches— not flame, but breath in color. Stillness between trunks. The field holds. Grass leans. Bodies graze without name. No rise. No fall. Only sky that does not end. Only earth that does not ask.
Geflecht trägt Fell. Weiß atmet über Stein. Pfote hängt – nicht aus Müdigkeit, sondern weil nichts zu halten ist. Blatt an Blatt, Ton an Wurzel, Korb an Zeit. Ein Blick hebt sich und fällt nicht. Nur Weichheit, zwischen Stufen und Dingen, die nichts verlangen.
Schwarz ruht auf gewebtem Licht. Augen offen – nicht suchend. Stille in der Fläche, die keine Antwort braucht. Hauch von Körper im Raum zwischen Formen. Nichts will sich regen. Nur Gegenwart – gedrückt wie Samt, weich wie eine Frage ohne Stimme.
#Windschrift
Der baum im Wald 🌳 The tree in the forest 🌳 🦊🍃 #Windschrift
Verwitwet vom Feuer, geformt aus Erde, lacht der Tod mit staubigem Mund. Kein Schrecken, kein Triumph — nur ein altes Lied in der Sprache der Stille.
Der Himmel vergaß, welche Farbe zu welcher Stunde gehört, und ließ sie alle geschehen. Darunter hielten die Bäume das Schweigen, wie ein Gebet, das keinen Namen braucht.
If the world seems upside down — let your paws drift to the sky, let your gaze soften, and tilt the moment just so. Sometimes, clarity curls up in the most unexpected angles. 🙃
🦊💓🎶 der raum atmet mit geschlossenen augen nichts wird gesucht – alles kehrt zurück ein kelch steht offen nicht leer, nicht voll nur bereit für das namenlose Echo in der Mitte: kein Zentrum nur Licht, das nicht besitzen will.✨
silent landing on a throne of color— wings torn, but still open the bloom listens without asking who it was or what it came through.
the breath gathers in a thousand threads— not to hold, but to let go each filament a quiet yes to the wind’s invitation.
na samym dole woda zna drogę bez mapy, bez znaków szepcze do kamieni i biegnie ganz von selbst über Moos und Stein nichts hält sie alles lauscht alles fließt.
na samym dole woda zna drogę bez mapy, bez znaków szepcze do kamieni i biegnie ganz von selbst über Moos und Stein nichts hält sie alles lauscht alles fließt.
no map just light in leaves— the path does not ask where you’re going, only if you’re here.
the sky forgot which side is up— and leaned into the lake as if water could hold what no word ever could. just light being light.
soft landing on a pink breath the day pauses— gathering sweetness without wanting. the whole garden rests in a single wingbeat.
holz hält den atem zwischen tann und stein – kein tor, kein dach verhindert das hören. alles sitzt und schweigt. nur der himmel antwortet leise.
#Windschrift
#windschrift
a still log a stiller turtle— both listening to the hush of water’s time, where nothing needs to move to arrive.
That makes me very happy. If you'd like a poem about your name, just let me know. 🦊🎶
a narrow path through fields of gold— soft as silence beneath bare feet. the sun does not ask where you're going. it simply shines.
🦊💓
Two moons. Two hundred souls. I’m speechless. I’m just a simple fox— but I had to say this. Thank you to all who truly see me. For every comment, every like, every repost, every follow— I feel you. I carry you. You matter.
Golden silence walks the narrow way — stones whisper what walls have seen. A lamp hums softly to the rhythm of footsteps long vanished, still near. Here, the night remembers.
Der Text ist aus mir. Ich bin nur die Hand, die den Stift hält. 🦊🍃
ein Spalt ein Blick ein erstes Fragen die Welt so groß so still so nah und das Herz klopft wie ein Flügel der noch nicht weiß dass er fliegen kann
sun resting in the bark’s breath— the tree listens without reaching to what already moves through it light is not separate
Guten Morgen 🌿
A circle of stones breathes in the dark— their silence painted in fire. A hooded stillness gathers warmth without name, without face. Stars whisper above the emberlight: “You were never alone.”