Macktumb!

Macktumb! Maktub is an alchemist term (arabic word) which literally means it is written. from mystical point of view,

Posts tagged Tyler knott

tylerknott:

Iwith faraway eyeswonder of you;thoughts and dreamswoven intothe best thingthat everhappened to me.-Tyler Knott Gregson-

Reblogged from tylerknott

tylerknott:

I
with faraway eyes
wonder of you;
thoughts and dreams
woven into
the best thing
that ever
happened to me.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #141 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Reblogged from tylerknott

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #141 by Tyler Knott Gregson

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #89 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Reblogged from tylerknott

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #89 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Reblogged from rockerjay1974-deactivated201302

"And just like the sun
every morning when you wake
you will rise to me."

Reblogged from tylerknott

Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)

"I’ll just keep giving
until I have nothing left,
then I will give more."

Reblogged from tylerknott

Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #81 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Reblogged from tylerknott

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #81 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Reblogged from ccc0urtney

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #75 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Reblogged from tylerknott

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #75 by Tyler Knott Gregson

tylerknott:

He criesbecause heis notwith her.Before her,he hadnone.-Tyler Knott Gregson-

Reblogged from tylerknott

tylerknott:

He cries
because he
is not
with her.
Before her,
he had
none.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

tylerknott:


Typewriter Series #73 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Where are they hiding?  All the things we shouldknow but somehow never do. All the secrets thatstay that way and the translations of life thatget lost as they are passed down over the years andmoments that fill the spaces between our bones.Do we know them, have we always known them?Are they lost inside us, covered with the sedimentof experience and failure, longing and the quietacquiescence to the many responsibilities we buryourselves in?  How did we forget that the mosthomesick you will ever feel is when you are finallystanding on the porch, but have not yet put the keyto the lock turned the knob to the door, and steppedinside?  That weight and wait sound the same fora reason, and the longer you do the latter, themore you can feel the former.  The heavier it becomesand perhaps this, exactly and precisely this, is whywhen old age catches up, inches have been erased fromour proud and former height.  We shrink under theimmeasurable and invisible weight of the wait, nomatter what we are waiting for.  Who told us thebest truth that what’s simple is true and it is ourfault that so often we hold a simple thing, only tolet it tarnish in the dirty water of false complications?We stare into our outstretched palms and ratherthan rejoice in the perfection we’ve stumbled upon,each perfect minute and fragile breath, we find ways topick it apart. We look for flaws instead of features,cracks instead of character.  We lose it somehowand somewhere along the way, that life is short.Short in that there will never be enough time todo the things we need to do, and absolutely never enoughtime to tell those we need to tell all the things weneed to tell them.  Say them.  Shout them.  Scream themor whisper.  Your voice will know the volume when it findsthe ears that need the words.  Say them because tomorrowis not a promise, it is a hope.  Say them because theydeserve to hear them and say them because your voicewill shake but it’s the shaking that means it’s worth it.Was it stolen or did we give it away in the darkestmoments of our weakest days?  This belief and hopethat it’s ok to believe and it’s crucial to hope.All these lost things, these missing and missed things,where are they now?  Perhaps they are never lost andalways hiding inside ourselves.  Perhaps we have halfthe answer and we are only waiting to find the other half,living secret and silent and shaking the voiceof the one whose voice you have waited your entire lifeto hear.
-Tyler Knott Gregson-

Reblogged from tylerknott

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #73 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Where are they hiding?  All the things we should
know but somehow never do. All the secrets that
stay that way and the translations of life that
get lost as they are passed down over the years and
moments that fill the spaces between our bones.
Do we know them, have we always known them?
Are they lost inside us, covered with the sediment
of experience and failure, longing and the quiet
acquiescence to the many responsibilities we bury
ourselves in?  How did we forget that the most
homesick you will ever feel is when you are finally
standing on the porch, but have not yet put the key
to the lock turned the knob to the door, and stepped
inside?  That weight and wait sound the same for
a reason, and the longer you do the latter, the
more you can feel the former.  The heavier it becomes
and perhaps this, exactly and precisely this, is why
when old age catches up, inches have been erased from
our proud and former height.  We shrink under the
immeasurable and invisible weight of the wait, no
matter what we are waiting for.  Who told us the
best truth that what’s simple is true and it is our
fault that so often we hold a simple thing, only to
let it tarnish in the dirty water of false complications?
We stare into our outstretched palms and rather
than rejoice in the perfection we’ve stumbled upon,
each perfect minute and fragile breath, we find ways to
pick it apart. We look for flaws instead of features,
cracks instead of character.  We lose it somehow
and somewhere along the way, that life is short.
Short in that there will never be enough time to
do the things we need to do, and absolutely never enough
time to tell those we need to tell all the things we
need to tell them.  Say them.  Shout them.  Scream them
or whisper.  Your voice will know the volume when it finds
the ears that need the words.  Say them because tomorrow
is not a promise, it is a hope.  Say them because they
deserve to hear them and say them because your voice
will shake but it’s the shaking that means it’s worth it.
Was it stolen or did we give it away in the darkest
moments of our weakest days?  This belief and hope
that it’s ok to believe and it’s crucial to hope.
All these lost things, these missing and missed things,
where are they now?  Perhaps they are never lost and
always hiding inside ourselves.  Perhaps we have half
the answer and we are only waiting to find the other half,
living secret and silent and shaking the voice
of the one whose voice you have waited your entire life
to hear.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

"You will never know
how deep my love for you runs,
how far it travels."

Reblogged from tylerknott

Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)