a heart, such a tender part of life
to have such power- a brittle tyrant
and when heart is an instrument of love
life's most precious metaphor
it fills songs and empty spaces
makes us weak and strong, bends
us til we feel we will break, and then
salves the wounds of its arrows
it can live in fruition, thrive in denial...
a heart holds passions, an
insignificant force in all but the heart
where it is tide and sea, moon and host
judge and prison, Eden and exile
It is in deep eyes that flow from one to one
a river of deepest life...it is you;
it is me and the space we tolerate
between a touch we desire and a glow
that burns in nights that cover dreams
a singular spark that lights a lasting flame
boundless and breakable, resilient and deep--
this heart--left me long ago
to find a truth of will, and I am like
the night sky- filled by fates and illusions;
beauty as if diamonds of
compressed tears and laughter,
and a singular purpose, to embrace... your fires
4 comments:
heart.. senn as a brittle tyrant.... such an amazing way to merge the seemingly incompatible... but you do it here, with such passion, fervor and romance, that these lines entice the reader deeper and deeper:
'the space we tolerate
between a touch we desire and a glow
that burns in nights that cover dreams'
beauty, pure and simple...
Yes, it is insouciant at best, inflexible at worst, but always our master. Heart disease is the worst kind to have, especially the affliction called love. But it feels the best of any.... Well done, Howard, this is imaginative and warm and wonderful.
@Susanne
Thank you, yes i agree always the master...Howard
Maryna
It is a people have said of me: I think you are a romantic...such a nice way to see...;)...H
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