diopside

“When they ask to see your gods, your book of prayers, show them lines drawn delicately with veins on the underside of a bird’s wing; tell them you believe in giant sycamores mottled and stark against a winter sky, and in nights so frozen stars crack open spilling streams of molten ice to earth. And tell them how you drank the holy wine of honeysuckle on a warm spring day, and of the softness of your mother who never taught you death was life’s reward— but who believed in the earth and the sun and a million, million light years of being.”

-J.L. Stanley

These are my beliefs to a tee.