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Posts Tagged ‘Heart’

As I sit here now

centered in my heart,

I can see

that love

moves like light.

All around us.

Invisible and

indisputable.

And presence

follows freely

as we learn to let go.

Perhaps as it’s said

there is no learning

in this life–

only a remembrance.

And it is in that

free fall

that we all begin to fly,

at home in our hearts.

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Helpful heart,

I hear your song.

Thank you for your

soft, sweet tones.

Helpful heart,

I see your strength.

Thank you for your

courage and care.

Helpful heart,

I know your wisdom,

thank you as

you’ve gently led.

Helpful heart,

it is through you

that I feel the love

I truly am.

There is only this.

All else only awaits your help,

my helpful,

healing heart.

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The music here has created a movement,

and beauty is bleeding from within.

Everything is esoteric,

seeds budding and stemming from a glance, from the simplicity of a soft, gentle touch,

from my heart and to and through you.

All of this, of course,

has always been,

and always will be.

Harmony has passion,

and

fear flies with just as much grace as that of

a diving dove.

 

Now and again, illusions form–

blankets of snow are tricks from the midnight moonlight,

whispers beyond the hallway are shakes from a cold chill,

and painful thoughts are only fragments from feelings of the past.

We have buried ourselves,

all of us.

In so many shapes,

in so many ways,

in so many places.

Falling

apart.

 

But now, the air is aberrant

and these vessels;

these veins and vines,

these eyes and ears,

see and feel and hear

the heart of the matter–

the only matter that has ever mattered.

 

And so we travel on,

picking up the pieces,

trying to live our lives like circles.

Perfect in our own rotations.

All to touch again,

perhaps.

 

But,

tender to shine together

we all are,

as long as we breathe

life

beyond

our skin.

As long as we share

out

from

within.

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Vain

As it starts the eyes water.

Streaming in a white glow, it can’t be slowed down enough.

Rubbing eyes amongst the gleam and myself,

yawning is the only momentary halt.

The gaze is endless and the horizon blurs to black.

All in this room that is far too big, that is far too empty for

space’s comfort.

Who will understand this beyond me, and how much do I?

Getting it down and seeing it from a reflection.

From one to another,

even if it’s only another me.

And somehow

in all the thunder and lightning,

in all the swirling menace,

there is something beyond imagination.

so close.

But then it’s gone.

Then it stops.

And the eyes itch in ending;

in feelings of failure and fury,

at this world that holds us back and the time

we spend listening to the same old songs.

I light a cigarette and sit above the traffic and amongst the wind.

And then I wonder,

if a mirrors vain, then somewhere,

it must have a heart.

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My Heart

My heart is locked in a damp, dark basement.
I check my pockets to make sure I have the key sometimes,
and sigh in relief.
I have boxes from my childhood down there but my heart sits
alone.
I don’t remember what I kept and it doesn’t matter but
my heart is locked in a cardboard box
under the stairs.
I use to keep it in the closet but a woman once asked me
about it, I lied and she knew.
She left me the next day.
I moved it to the basement after that, and in a dripping dust-filled dungeon
it stays.
Sometimes I have dreams that it’s stolen and I wake up in a sweat.
I rush down stairs
in a shuffled mess
and there it is, alone under the stairs.

My heart is locked in a damp, dark basement.
The box is falling apart and the cardboard is frayed from the leaking cracks of rain.
I open it sometimes and check its pulse,
it beats slow and constant,
content in its solace of silence.

My heart is locked in a dark basement like a ragdoll dream,
like a lover awaiting the savior,
like Maid Marian.

Sometimes when I get drunk I put it in and write with its voice,
but it brings me to tears.
Sometimes when I get drunk I put it in and rip the house apart in a
rage of flames and fire.
The next day i awake in a mess of emotions and go back down to the basement
and lock it back up in its cardboard box.

My heart is locked in a damp, dark basement
and only I have
the key.
Sometimes I put it in and fall asleep with it.

Those nights are filled with the most beautifully beating dreams.
But I awake
aching, and alone.

I go back down to the basement and put it away
and try to remember to keep it there

under the stairs.

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