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A broken heart is
A heart
That hasn’t forgiven
Yet.

Your forgiving heart is
A heart
That hasn’t recovered
Yet.

Your recovering heart is
A heart
That hasn’t loved enough
Yet.

Your loving heart is
A heart
That can’t be broken again
Yet.

A broken heart is
A heart
That doesn’t really exist.
Yet.
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
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Days pass, hazy sunrise to misty night,
Yesterday and tomorrow like today,
Again, again, no difference in sight,
The fog that fell will never go away.

Nobody goes out when it is like this.
All routes barren in unpassable gray,
Again, again, another day to miss.
Who would drive blind, in darkness, anyway?

Look around, there is nothing but sameness.
Nothing changes except from slow decay.
Again, again, time falls to the aimless
Stoic and lost in a life thrown away.

Once hurt, just once, and the spirit has died,
Leaving behind an empty shell to stay,
Again, again, each new hour cast aside,
To die just a little more every day.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy "Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life" at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
I’ve thought about you all day.
Not because I wanted to.
Though I did.
But because I needed to,
To know my heart was beating.

I thanked God for you all day.
Not because I wanted to.
Though I did.
But because I needed to,
To recall life is fleeting.

I spoke about you all day.
Not because I wanted to.
Though I did.
But because I needed to,
To hear the name I’m needing.

I felt my love grow all day.
Not because I wanted to.
Though I did.
But because I needed to,
To feel my world completing.
Instagram @insigtshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
All you ever have to do
Is rest your head
On my shoulder,
On my chest.

And let me breathe in your love,
Adoring you,
Watching you sleep,
All night long.

All you ever have to do
Is just let me
Be the one who
Gives you peace.

And let me breathe in your love,
Protecting you,
Holding you close,
To my heart.

All you ever have to do
Is fall asleep,
Here beside me,
Ev'ry night.

And let me breathe in your love,
And kiss your head,
Until your dreams
All come true.
The figures in my dreams must be angels,
Speaking in words I can’t hear when awake,
That beauty surrounding me is angels,
Their silent love beyond what I can make.

There’s no love like being loved by angels,
Whose embrace is welcomed by resting hearts,
My most intimate dreams are of angels,
Their love is timeless without ends or starts.

Feelings I feel in dreams come from angels,
Who kiss me with lips that form perfect smiles,
Releasing my soul to dance with angels,
In romantic step down flowered aisles.

I dream to dream once again of angels,
With mystic fingers soft as nothing’s touch,
To once again lie down with the angels,
And dream of angels who love me so much.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Did you know when you posed for that photo
That it would represent my sincerest dreams?
Did you know, posing, letting yourself go
That you would represent all of love's themes?

There's a picture I can't look away from
With simplicity of your innocence.
There's a picture of what love can become
With simplicity, strength and elegance.

Your lines and curves and perfection of shape
Transport my soul and take hold of my gaze.
Your lines of your chest o'er shoulder and nape
Transport my soul to see beauty and praise.

You are the picture I paint in my head
Of beauty that only exists in thought.
You are the picture I dream of in bed.
Of beauty that I have forever thought.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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Creating a scene
Won’t make you be seen.
Not in real way,
The way you can say,
“This is who I am.”

Creating a scene
Won’t make you be seen.
The outside you show,
Is not how you know,
“This is who I am.”

Creating a scene
Won’t make you be seen.
Others may flatter,
It does not matter,
“This is who I am.”

Creating a scene
Won’t make you be seen.
Not till we can see
Authenticity.
“That is who you are.”
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Beneath the paleness of the autumn sky,
The tired ground takes respite from the heat,
Life departs with green of leaves fallen dry,
Barren and ready for growth to repeat.

Cold wind crackles against the branches bare,
And mornings now too quickly greet the night,
While the birds and butterflies disappear,
Warm raindrop kisses wet with chilling bite.

The weight of the gray air wilts the flowers.
Have pastels washed away for evermore?
Weary nature calls upon its powers
And from its weakest point starts to restore.

I shield my eyes in refuge from the cold,
Imagining the life there is to mourn.
Then I’ll recall the lesson nature told.
You need a little death to be reborn.
Instagram @insightshut
Blogging at insightshurt.blogspot.com
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Here the reluctance of nightly slumber
With my soul aflame with disquietude,
My fear, as darkness becomes my blanket,
That my eyes once shut will see you no more.

The blind can have their morning light unseen,
But my seeing you is morning to me.
What need have I for eyes but your beauty?
I should rather choose darkness with you.

I am scared! What if my eyelids rebel?
What if they are weighed down with jealousy?
My dreams are not enough! You are too true.
I’ll not sleep, lest my eyes stay closed to you.

I shall embrace insomnia’s madness
If my eyes can give me no assurance
That sleeping, they will open in the morn,
To you, only you, my truest sunrise.
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
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Love is a whisper
Echoing in the chasm
Of every heartbreak
And every emptiness

Love is a whisper
Spoken softly to the soul
Echoing in the vastness
Of every need.

Love is a whisper
Heard clearly, echoing
Reverberating, clarion call
That cannot be unheard.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at insightshurt.blogspot.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Weathered and ragged and flaking away,
Ageless, majestic, for day after day,
Haven for robins and the honeybee,
This is the bark of an old hollow tree.

A suit of cracked armor letting rain in,
Lifeless and cold, hardened like calloused skin,
Home and shelter where squirrels can flee,
This is the bark of an old hollow tree.

Vestigial barrier to bygone rings,
Same as it’s been, now for so many springs,
All that is left of its great pedigree,
This is the bark of an old hollow tree.

A trunk withered down and dead from inside,
That empty space, where owls now reside,
Inside those walls there’s still reason to be,
This is the bark of an old hollow tree.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy "Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life" at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
I see it in my dreams,
And everywhere I look.
In forests and in streams,
In pages of a book.

I see it when alone,
And when I’m in a crowd.
It feels so much my own,
I’m blessed that it’s allowed.

I see it in my heart,                                        
And right before my eyes.                    
In every work of art,                                        In all I realize.

I see profound beauty,
And I can’t look away.
I feel it’s my duty,
To love it every day.

I see the world’s beauty,
No matter where I stand.
It shall never mute me,
Whilst pen is in my hand.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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What slave have I become!
Embracing servitude,
Desire no rebellion,
Please! O, my will! Succumb!
To her, with gratitude,
Besides Beauty, there’s none.

I vow to cede control,
No action beyond me,
Beauty is my master!
I’ve no need for my soul,
Beauty, I cede to thee
Fortune or disaster!

Liberty is worthless!
My eyes must stir the heart!
Why live, and not seek you?
I publicly confess,
To Beauty, to Astarte,
You command all I do.
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
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Static with words that speak the familiar,
Narrowest thoughts spoken so many ways,
Bare novel spark in the particular,
A tireless writer with nothing to say.

A thousand new words are no less banal,
When a writer is content just to be,
When the compulsion to write is his all,
He writes with no responsibility.

To lose that will is to lay down my pen,
To no longer betray the written word,
Writing not a thing until the moment when,
Something new inside deserves to be heard.

Unique thought must precede what is written,
Needing to write is to seek depths to plumb,
That awesome task with which I am smitten,
Is never to be, but always become.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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I have a headboard on my bed.
I don’t like when the pillows fall,
slid between the mattress and wall,
with nothing to prop up my head.

I do not have a footboard though.
(It’s a footboard, right? I’m not sure.)
It seems a bedset’s haute couture—
useless ornament just for show.

I also don’t have those siderails.
You know. The kind that toddlers use,
so they don’t fall off while they snooze.
For now, I’ve outgrown such travails.

See, three is my lucky number,
and there can be no objections
if from one of three directions,
I climb in to start my slumber.

Now, though, all that having been said,
I really haven’t slept okay.
Wait! I’ll just sleep the other way!
I have a footboard on my bed.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy "Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life" at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Awake before my opened eyes
And though the hour is not yet dawn
Nor hint of sun begun to rise
Not still and starry darkness gone.

An image danced before my eyes
A waiting jewel beyond the dawn
Though wide awake I dare not rise
And lose the sight of slumber gone.

Unlike a dream not seen with eyes
It came to me as sure as dawn
Subconscious hidden now to rise
Deep sleep unconscious shackles gone.

I see your face with all my eyes
Your face begins my day pre-dawn
When I lie down to when I rise
Your smile is never ever gone.
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Loves sees the bands, colors of a rainbow,
And in their perfect stratification,
Begs to see more, what else there is to know
Between colors’ identification?

Loves sees the spectrum, red to purple hues,
Where seven colors, beautiful enough
Disguise preciousness hid within their views,
Vibrant colors the peak, love sees the trough.

Love sees beyond the discrete colored bands,
To join red and orange, yellow and green,
Blue intertwined to violet like held hands,
Love asks what magic is there in between?

Love sees rainbows, but is not satisfied,
That line between colors intervening,
Spanning the sky, but look deeper inside,
Love asks to see beauty’s inner meaning.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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Between the sheets, in perfect peace,
The back and forth is synchronous.
The movements slow but never cease,
Then rise with violence amorous.

Between the sheets, yet closer still,
The lust for love becomes sublime,
One slides in to the other’s fill
The coming moments beyond time.

Between the sheets, the eyes roll back,
The light caress has now dug in,
Moans interrupted by a smack
Of rhythmic impact skin in skin.

Between the sheets, in unison,
The lovers’ gush of spirit meets,
Their finished glow beams like the sun.
They lie alone—where are the sheets?
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
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A day in love is like a thousand years,
With a heart beating but time moves no more.
I know the timelessness of loving you,
Is God-like as in Psalms ninety verse four.

To be in love with you gives me my soul,
Your love is the breath of life from Heaven.
The love my lungs breathe is like the spirit
God breathed in Genesis two verse seven.

Your love shows me mercy, grace, good and truth,
Patience, forgiveness and absence of hate.
It awes me like when God showed Himself in
Exodus thirty-four seven and eight.

The more I love you the simpler it gets,
It’s something I just naturally do.
Love’s forever inscribed in my heart like
Jeremiah thirty-one thirty-two.
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
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Oh you bless’d eyes, how can I forgive you?
I trusted you to find beauty unloosed,
To hallow it, beauty from Heaven true.
But you wandered, looking to be seduced.

Oh you bless’d eyes, how can I still trust you?
I closed you at night with dreams as your guide,
And bid you find each day’s beauty anew.
But you opened, sought fantasy and lied.

Oh you bless’d eyes, why should I let you see?
I gave you the rainbow’s colors and hues,
To enjoy life’s beauty and majesty.
But you went dim, after the darkest views.

Oh you bless’d eyes, what sight now shall remain?
No beauty below, no solace above.
Please find me beauty to ease my heart’s pain!
But you’ve gone blind, useless to find true love.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at insightshurt.blogspot.com
Buy "Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life" at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Like the fruit tree that every spring,
Blooms when it senses flow’rs should be,
Knowing at once what fruit to bring,
It has a flawless memory.

To see the sun rise every morn,
And know it never skips a day,
Forgotten not since Earth was born,
It’s memory can’t fade away.

When petals of a flower spread,
Ere they go dormant in the fall,
Entice a bee and feathered head,
It’s memory gives food to all.

When nature has a vital need,
It knows what God already knew.
As plants have mem’ry in their seed,
I’m born with memory of you.
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Springs spring back to life,
returning to form,
recovery gets
a bounce, extending
from its latent fate.

Springs power through strife,
calming from the storm,
everything resets
themselves, with pending
energy in fate.

Springs, rhythm of life,
no matter the form,
ensure the world gets
rebirth, extending
reliance on fate.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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I feel an ecstatic boundless delight
When you come inhabit my dreams at night
When lying in bed you hold me so tight
When closing my eyes you’re still in my sight.

I am ecstatic with your boundless grace
The fortune of having looked on your face
The blessing that I exist in your space
The music of my soul in your embrace.

Lost in ecstasy of boundless desire
Of your love from which I shall never tire
No other love will I ever require
Yours is all the love to which I aspire.

Your boundless love is boundless ecstasy
And my boundless love you shall have from me.
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Calming with the softness of your skin,
Sated of my hunger for your kiss,
Nourished by the state you put me in,
Feeding this soul’s appetite for bliss.

Craving delicacies of your eyes,
Sensing sunrise warmth of your embrace,
Mornings such as this I energize
With anticipation of your face.

Awake to the honey of your tongue
And fluttering eyelash on my cheek,
You’re the morning hope of day still young,
You provide for me the love I seek.
On Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
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Carelessly crossing this chasm
For finding fallacy in fear,
Enter with enthusiasm,
Through thoughts that are thanklessly there.

Bringing bravery to the bridge,
Tripping over trepidation,
Pacing o’er pious pilgrimage,
Away from alienation.

Approach with awed anticipation,
The bridge beyond being banal,
To the valued validation,
Across achieving all your all.

Taking up this terrible truth,
Understanding what is under,
Spanning the other side will soothe
Being burdened by your blunder.
Instagram @insightshurt
www.insightshurt.com
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“Broken” is an understatement.
“Broken” is like a pencil’s tip.
“Broken” is just an annoyance.
“Broken” is something fixable.

Love heals what is beyond broken.
Love repairs total destruction.
Love rebuilds a thousand pieces.
Love reforms embers and ashes.

“Broken” is too facile a term.
“Broken” heals if just left alone.
“Broken” is the every day.
“Broken” is not in need of love.

Love is wasted on the broken.
Love puts soul in a crumbled self.
Love takes on what no longer is.
Love can make people out of dust.
Love does so much more than repair.
Love is the act of creation.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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Forgive me, my heart beats too fast.
I suffer from lightheadedness.
In frigid sweats I shrink aghast.
I panic from my breathlessness.

My weakened legs won’t let me stand.
My skin sizzles like it’s been shocked.
Can’t calm the tremor in my hand.
I’m speechless as if jaw’s been locked.

My eyes are crossed in confusion.
I’m frozen like an icy blue.
I’m afraid it’s no illusion.
My body’s broken around you.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at insightshurt.blogspot.com
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Felt swaddled like a newborn child,
Slept peacefully in dreamy bliss.
Those were the nights before you smiled.
Can’t sleep without your goodnight kiss.

My pillow perfect for my head,
Could fall asleep so easily.
Now roll back and forth ‘cross my bed,
Can’t sleep without you next to me.

My empty bed would hold my dreams,
My silent slumber had no fear.
But you, my love, are real it seems,
I lie awake if you’re not here.

Could close my eyes just ‘ere the dawn,
And feel refreshed throughout the day.
But dusk to sunrise with you gone,
Restless longing won’t go away.

I used to sleep below the sun,
Despite the light down from above.
Though darkness needs another one,
I’ve traded sleep for all your love.
Rocking, rhythm, bobbing head.
Quiet wisdom, words unsaid.
Moving, swaying, in a trance.
Feeling, praying, like a dance.

Darkness, hearing, murmured sounds.
Soulful, fearing, fire surrounds.
Comfort, pleading, self laid bare.
Crying, needing, selfless prayer.

Heartfelt, wholesome, voicing praise.
Faithful, welcome, end of days.
Forgive, revive, guilt away.
Strengthen, alive, here I pray.

Intent, inspired, sensing awe.
Arise, aspire, then withdraw.
Recede, to Earth, breathe the air.
Shalom, rebirth, peace from prayer.
Instagram @insightshurt
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No twinkling red giant star
Glistens with more red than your lips.
No verdant green of prairie grass
Can be more fertile than your hips.

The sky’s blue hues from morn to night,
Are pale against your royal soul.
The softened tan of perfect skin
Colors my heart out of control.

The yellow sun is cold and dark
When your aura is on display.
Like whitest white more blameless than
A child on his very birthday.

In you is all that can be seen,
In ways that colors only know.
Your gifts of beauty more vast than
The colors across the rainbow.
Instagram @insightshurt
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Is there anything softer than soft lips?
Or more electric than fingertips?
Can anything pierce like seductive eyes?
Or warm to the touch as the inner thighs?

What feels complete as fullness of a breast?
More supple skin than between neck and chest?
Is anything finer than a woman’s hair?
Or more elegant than her back laid bare?

Nibble her neck and she curls up her nose.
Massage her feet as she curls up her toes.
Anxious to breathe her into your lungs.
The gentle ecstatic dance of the tongues.

Smitten with craving as sense leaves your head.
At last she smiles at you naked in bed.
To come close is to feel the connection.
Every part of her is perfection.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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This spoken language,
Spoken by my heart,
In garbled anguish,
Can’t be deciphered
By a mind that learned
To speak happiness.

My heart is vanquished,
Crying to come home,
In foreign language,
Can’t be understood
By a mind that learned
To listen for joy.

This is when your body learns loneliness,
When your thoughts don’t comprehend what you feel.
Instagram @insightshurt
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This spirit is a fire that consumes,
that burns the words to ashes and embers,
energy rises in beautiful plumes,
revealing what the hidden remembers.

Drawn to the call of the consuming flame,
awed by the wonder of the mystery,
once burned by the spirit, never the same,
charred remnants become light of history.

Nothing can be done to dampen this soul,
this burning life can not be extinguished,
flames growing rapidly out of control
calling out a new hope for the vanquished.

I am consumed, but I shall not be burned.
This kiln of passion has purified me.
Seared in my mind are the lessons I’ve learned.
Burning love no longer terrifies me.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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All criticism
Comes from the illusion of bravery,
From the pedestal
On which the lowliest men sit highest.

All criticism
Is someone’s projected false confidence,
From the pedestal
Upon which those who can do no wrong fall.

All criticism
Is a descent to egomania,
From the pedestal
Above small specks of blinding delusion.

All criticism
Derived from eyes whose lenses are mirrors,
From the pedestal
Elevated by its isolation.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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The pantheon of misplaced fears,
Whose walls were built on oppressed tears,
Has been well-guarded through the years,
Hiding from curious man’s ears.

There is no faith that threatens fears,
Afflicting the weakest with tears,
No faith like that withstands the years,
Silent in curious man’s ears.

Unchallenged faith the true faith fears,
To give compassion through the tears,
Where questions repeat through the years,
Faith needs curious eyes and ears.

The curious confront faith’s fears,
The curious fight through faith’s tears,
The curious give faithful years,
The curious give faith their ears.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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To love the dawn.
Not the sunrise,
But the moment
The black, gray world
Morphs to color.

To love the dawn.
Not the daybreak,
But the dark blues
As they emerge
To make color.

To love the dawn.
Not the morning,
But the changes
From the dullness
To a pale sky.

To love the dawn.
Not goodbye moon,
But hello life,
When greenery
Gives way to red.

To love the dawn.
Not hello day,
But a rainbow,
Every dawn.
Birthing color.
Instagram @insightshurt
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Every feeling drawn from so much depth,
That I have to learn to embrace the deep,
The blackness of the pit with no echo,
The unreachable place from which they creep.

I’ve not been privileged to love shallowly,
Nor unrequited love not quench my soul,
Nor experience of fleeting sadness,
But to love my dark and bottomless hole.

Shall I be better off without darkness?
Feeling love as strong as jealous anguish?
Shall I pray to never feel crushing hurt?
So loving shall be an incomplete wish?

How often rejection brought me despair!
Oh to be hopeful as my hopelessness!
The deep emptiness that ***** down my pain,
Is the same depth from which I can’t love less.

Emptiness do not fill up with healing!
That dark abyss is my space for feeling.
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The Devil thought he had me
So many times he tapped me
And said, “Fall in love with this one.”
And I did.

The Devil thought he had me.
So many times love went wrong
He laughed, “He’ll just give up, this one.”
And I laughed.

The Devil thought he had me.
So many times he tried me
And cried, “No true love for this one.”
And I cried.

The Devil thought he had me.
So many times he taught me
And said, “He is stubborn, this one.”
And I learned.

The Devil thought he had me.
So many times I had him
And said, “No, not that one. This one.”
And I loved.
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The guiding hand, clenched in its fist,
Cares not for the chances we’ve missed.
Bony fingers tighten ‘round us,
Of Devil or God confounds us.

Fate’s hand places us where it will,
Objections met with an eerie still.
The Devil’s hand or of the Lord,
Punishments can look like reward.

The benevolent hand at play,
Requests for which we blindly pray,
Indifferent which powerful font,
God or Devil gives what we want.

A hand from beyond has control
In return it asks for our soul.
What if ere we die we live good?
Is the Devil misunderstood?
What if our deepest wants are just to do good? What if the Devil offered our soul for the good we do while we’re alive? If we asked for the power to do good, would we care where it came from? Rich explorations of this topic in literature. For now, a short poem.
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I discovered you somewhere in the void
Between hope and glory, where words collide
With the need for story,
In that void where restless despair resides,
Where you meet the broken hearts to avoid.

I discovered you at the end of strength
Between fear and surprise, where all hopes fade
Ere fate can realize,
The mistakes that my hopelessness has made,
With expectations abandoned at length.

I discovered you in a world beyond,
Between here and never, where fortune lies
Promising forever,
In hushed awe I could not believe my eyes,
I ardently prayed to have YOU respond.
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Music—the score of victories,
triumphant cymbals of success
of orchestrated histories,
to regal anthems to impress.

Music—scribbled notes to recall,
arranged in sync with beating hearts
resounding with clarion call,
of overtures meaning imparts.

Music—felt across Earth’s measure,
in staccato revelation
that accompanies God’s treasure—
the symphony of creation.

Music—God’s whistle in the wind,
that piano voice, in us He set
the atonal key, blessed or sinned,
music is our divine duet.
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The familiar ba-bump ba-bump,
Of spikes and valleys on the screen,
The electrocardiogram
Looked the same as it’s always been.

The doctor turned toward the nurse
And traced the image with his hand,
“This heartbeat look completely fine.
I simply do not understand.”

The nurse stared back at him baffled,
And the doctor just cracked a smile.
“I heard of this in medical school,
But it has really been a while.”

“You have?” asked the curious nurse.
“Does the condition have a name?”
“True Love,” the wistful doctor laughed.
“You heartbeat never feels the same.”

The nurse removed the patient’s wires,
Who pointed to the screen above.
The doc said, “Your heart’s different—”
He smiled, “Because I’m so in love.”
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You crawled from out of my heart to my head.
From where I wanted to keep you instead.
I should have known once you entered my bed,
Dreams I have of you would need to be fed.

My heart would hold you but then you burst out,
Reminding me what mem’ries are about.
I was a fool to have had any doubt,
That the seed you planted in me would sprout.

My love was too much for my heart to bear,
I could not ignore it and keep it there.
Since you came around it hasn’t been fair.
My stale lungs need to breathe love in the air.

Between my heart and mind you shall dwell,
And when you’re near me then all will be well.
While our story has still chapters to tell,
Without you my heart’s just an empty shell.
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Oh mind! Don’t let me forget thee!
Not the innocence of your laugh,
Nor the smile that causes my own.
Oh mind! Don’t let me forget thee!
Not the way you seem to need me
So that I never feel alone.

Oh mind! Don’t let me forget thee!
Joyous melody of your voice,
Electricity in your eyes.
Oh mind! Don’t let me forget thee!
No, not your magnificent quirks,
Not your exasperated cries.

Oh mind! Don’t let me forget thee!
Not even long past memories,
Of the time with you I’ve gotten.
Oh mind! Don’t let me forget thee!
All that’s left is you in my head,
My heart’s already forgotten.
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I’ve traveled the world
Lying here in bed,
Had places unfurled
All around my head.

I’ve ridden on dreams
To fantastic sites,
And followed the themes
Of songs sung at night.

Drifting to places
That don’t exist,
While here in spaces
That real life missed.

In sleep I don’t stir
And go everywhere,
‘Cause awake I’m sure,
I’m going nowhere.
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Too many paths where the traffic has slowed,
Too many wrong turns down forks in the road.
Too many hazards where I’ve blown a flat,
Too many stops that I didn’t know I was at.
Too many false steps into a puddle,
Too many treks where my plan was a muddle.
Too many times I was lost in the rain,
Too many times I crossed the center lane.
Too many speeds where I needed to brake,
Too many wrong places reached by mistake.
Too many spin outs from driving on ice,
Too many times I left driven by vice.
Too many trips life put me at the wheel,
Too many heartbreaks I caused her to feel.
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What cavernous space bellows back to me
From depths I encounter so warily?
Those hearts that stared back at me emptily,
Now echo “I love you” so audibly.

Abandoning hope I screamed into the black,
And nothing but darkness answered me back.
The silent response a deafening crack,
Now no echo of “I love you” I lack.

Opened my mouth with hands cupped to each side,
Projecting voice over my swallowed pride,
To space I wanted my love to reside,
Now echo “I love you” from the outside.

Standing alone atop the highest peak,
Into the abyss of loves I would seek,
Speaking whichever love language I speak,
Now echo “I love you” in voice unique.

From depths of another I hope to hear,
An echo of words I said so sincere.
I whisper “I love you” into her ear,
At last the echo “I love you” is here.
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Pain is just an echo,
an effect that the deep
caverns cannot let go,
calling us in our sleep.

The reverberation
of pain we’d thrown away,
in determination,
tries to return and stay.

The injury calls back,
“Still here! You are not cured!”
And now under attack
of hurt not felt but heard.

Pain is just an echo,
of the hurt that left me.
I just need it to know
I’m in recovery.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
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Ego
Ego
Crying and comfort, hugging and gifting,
thoughtful with time, and being uplifting.
Embracing each chance to do what I could,
and doing it because good feels good.

Giving advice after I’ve lent an ear,
and choosing to serve who most needs me there.
Save each damsel in distress if I could,
and doing it because good feels good.

Being a friend in stubborn defiance—
I’m the one in whom they place reliance!
Some may not think I should act as I should,
but I only do good that feels good.

People don’t seem to get the irony.
Such goodness erodes some humility.
There is no deed, good or bad, that you would
do if doing it did not make you feel good.
(C) 2019 Daniel H. Shulman
Eons of water dripping on a stone
Altered and absorbed into creation--
But I need suddenness of something known
From Epiphany and Revelation.

Realization's not slow and steady,
Rather spontaneous elevation.
My need to learn demands I stay ready
For Epiphany and Revelation.

Show me no small lessons that life presents,
But insight with dramatic sensation!
Life unfolds in a series of events
Of Epiphany and Revelation.

Even silence is thunderous rapture
Triggering profound imagination.
Knowledge springs from the wisdom I capture
With Epiphany and Revelation.

Who I am today is a product of
Awe in my moments of education.
It's these times in life that I've learned to love--
My Epiphany and Revelation.
Instagram @insightshurt
Blogging at insightshurt.blogspot.com
Buy "Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life" at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
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