deeper than bones

[TRANS] Hwarang: The Beginning - Hansung’s Introduction

Hansung - Kim Taehyung

The youngest Hwarang in Hwarangdo. He who carries a bright face that shines like an angel, pursues harmonious relationships anywhere he goes with his warm and friendly personality. However, he is four-dimensional and full of curiosity, once he is immersed in something, he will concentrate to the point of not seeing anything, not hearing any sound. As the Hwarangdo slowly becomes the leader of the Silla kingdom’s future, the responsibility that this tender-hearted boy has to carry, heavier and more painful than anything, is erased too. 

Seonwoo, whom Hansung met after becoming a Hwarang, is different from anyone else he has met. He is someone who, even when being despised for being a lower class, still willingly puts on shoes for them. Who acted nonchalant yet still embraced the tender-hearted Hansung’s deep stories. Unknowingly, his favor toward Seonwoo grows deeper than the bones. Hansung comes to depend on Seonwoo like his real brother. Hansung who was once trapped in the war of the adults without his own judgement, for the first time, has a dream and is now standing on his own.

O bearers of Knowledge..

‘Alee Ibn Abee Taalib said:

“O bearers of knowledge, act upon it, for the knowledgeable one is the one who acts on what he knows an whose actions and knowledge are in harmony.

There will be people who acquire knowledge, but it does not go any deeper than their collar bones; how they are inwardly will be contrary to how they appear to be, and their actions will differ from their knowledge.

They will lead study circles and compete with one another to the extent that one will get angry with a person in his circle if he leaves him to go and sit with someone else. Those people’s actions do not ascend from their gatherings to Allaah (swt).”

[Sunan Ad-Daarimee, 1/106]

THE DAY BEFORE MY MOTHER DIED SHE TOLD ME THAT CHILDHOOD IS A GRAVE WAITING TO BE BURIED, AND FOR THE PAST FIVE MONTHS I HAVE BEEN RUNNING FROM THE MURDEROUS TOUCH OF TIME AND—

1. i think of your blood that flows through vines in a bed of thornlike honesty, and i wish that the truth was yours to keep. i want you with your golden skin to wrap around the bullets inside of me. i want you with your tainted lips to tell me that this broken glass is fallen sugar on a map of stars. i want—

2. (you) and i dance in the dark to songs of the living and lie when we talk to growing old. i kiss the length of your lungs and it seems that every time we breathe in we are made from pale dust and dirt and i am always left crawling at your feet.

3. are we cursed if we speak of magic? the calling of our ancestors seems to run deeper through my bones than yours because i am selfish and i am selfish and i am selfish and i wish i could burn at the campsite of youth, with this firewood i kept from that night at the forest when you told me of love and you lied.

4. the lake rises with every bruise that i count and i can’t help but want to replace your arms with the pull of suffocation because at least sirens speak of killing when all you are is choking and crushing and loving in a foreign language that i will never understand.

5. i dream about the girl i used to love with her fists and her knuckles and her thighs on my palms and every morning is the quiet realization where i find you instead: DIGGING THROUGH MY SKELETON TO LAY YOUR BODY IN ITS COFFIN.
—  we burn ourselves at the stake & scream our names into the night // k.s.l.(davidfihncer)

anonymous asked:

‘ i feel anger deeper than my bones. i feel anger in my very soul. ’ ProfJones

@professordrjones

There was genuine concern on Ernst’s face as the other spoke. He had had moments of anger, of course he had. But nothing to that level before.

“Why is that?” He asked softly, frowning at David. “Is there anything that I can do to help you with that.”

7

   When I dreamt of Alaska as a child, the visions in my head were murky, albeit awing scenes of white blankets covering the land and mountain tops hiding their peaks within low-lying clouds. I could see it all in my head, but it was a memory constructed out of someone else’s written words. I was merely borrowing the experience; it was never truly mine.
   Seeing all of those childhood dreams with my own eyes, feeling it all with my own being - climbing to the top of one of those peaks, stepping into one of those snowy blankets on a trail, breathing in so deeply the evergreen will forever remain in my lungs - has conjured an indescribable force in me, deeper than my bone and tissue, deeper than the cells carrying me through each day.
    No, the borrowing life is not for me.

Artist: Bill Prescott at Mass Ink in East Bridgewater, Massachusetts

“deeper than bones” is a lyric from the Third Eye Blind song “I Want You”. The full lyric is “You wanna know how deeply my soul goes? Deeper than bones, deeper than bones”. Third Eye Blind is my absolute favorite band and I knew I wanted to incorporate them into my first tattoo. I had it written out in my grandma’s handwriting, who is one of the most important people in my life. The love I have for my family and friends has always come first, and will always run deeper than bones.

I do not keep my obsession with Home a secret from anyone. It was a question at first that gave way to a hundred more, birthed in longing, raised in aching. What is this seemingly undefinable place from which we come or are constantly trying to return to? A chalkboard marked up with possible answers, becoming a search, becoming elusive as a nightingale’s song. The answer in the questions; the answer in the search, and one so far from ending.

There is something deeper in our bones than in our understanding that nudges us when we catch these glimpses like light rays reaching across the floor before disappearing into dusk. A voice, hands, a country that reaches to us in dreams. My mother’s face but not her house. My father’s intellect but not his books. Relaxing into the sun, sinking into the soft grasses by the riverbed. Strands of time and feeling, dust motes illumined by the window. A longing, yes, but a contented one. An aching that only rarely hurts and then is healed. Beauty in mystery and conundrum: that I can feel and find Home and yet remain on this wild hunt knowing that the gentle beast I seek may elude me for the rest of my life.