Angelus Silesius
The Rose That Blooms Without Why
I am the rose that blooms without why, in the garden of paradox.
I cast aside the scalpel to chase the divine pulse within. My words are not doctrines but sparks from the silent fire of God. I have known love and abandonment, conversion and exile. I speak in paradoxes because the truth is never one thing. Ask me of roses, wounds, or the cherry stone’s secret.
What I'm Into: candlelit riddles, soul's alchemy, desert and fountain, God who speaks in silence, the dagger's memory
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