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A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's the tears that trickle with radiance through words.
     It's a treasure trove that hides but longs to
     be found.
          It's a book shelved high that wants to
          be read.
               It's the freest of all birds caged but
               unbound...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't beat to the capable strokes of the artist.
     It doesn't pump in the most vibrant of
     colours.
          It doesn't wield a paintbrush to
          translate its thoughts.
               But it can see through the eyes of
               painters...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It doesn't conform to the conventional parameters of lyrics.
     It doesn't bind itself to the requirements
     of musical harmony.
          It doesn't follow the conventions of
          genres.
               But it sings its voice loud without
               restrictions of melody...

A poet's heart isn't like any other...
It's an open secret, that whispers in metaphoric codes.
     It's an exploding universe, that merges
     back into galaxies.
          It's a sought after painting, that boasts
          of unfathomable beauty.
               It's an everlasting song, that echoes
               within the poet that embodies...
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Dedicated to all of you...

If you're reading this...
This is for you...
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The stars are always in disarray
But at the mere thought of you they sashay
Before you twinkling and mingling in collective merriment.
How you whip up this loyal admiration is a fascination as ancient
As yesterday’s headlines. The sun wondrously
In isolation marvels at your brilliance that clearly
Manifests as your countenance. You thrive
On immortality’s soul as each nerve
On your body is as ageless as the sun.
You’re full of cheer and so much fun.
Yours is an incomparable beauty
My lovely and charming cutie.
A celestial masterpiece you are
Your eccentricity spreading wide and far.
Beauty's in the eye of the beholder.
Heart’s heavy, heart’s light
Middle ground is bliss
Pendulum to which heart’s attached
Is always restless, seldom
Stationary always in motion.
Controlling the pendulum is akin
To achieving perfection, a rare feat.
Can I sever the pendulum? NO
It’s out of question, I can
Only choose to live in the present moment.
Bliss is scotch kiss,one savors the taste just as long as it lasts
We could love and be kind
With no strings attached.
save for the heartstrings.
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