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sn-mraxPoems
I hold a heart in my hands-- mine or yours, it hardly matters. It's a cup of sweet pain-- sweet because it contains a new world in each potential swirling drop. Sweet because we can taste each world. And the pain is just a sharpening, in this moment, of memories-- of our longing for this new world-- for birth-- to take what is now real, but hidden, and let it ripple and be unveiled-- this world hidden in our hearts, too big, it aches because it is ready, pressing against its hidden containment-- we may not hold it in too long-- Life carries on with its own force, seen or unseen, the new world emerges in love from the old, warm and slowly scarred-- one new and ripe with life and will, the other worn and wise, ready to go quiet--where it will vanish, covered and concealed, dissolved then secretly congealed, gathering a secret pulse and vibrant eye, to once again--for the first time in all of time--emerge and be revealed-- Our hearts seem like vessels but they are constantly transforming from old to new, from hidden to emergent to present. We have no one heart, yours or mine, it hardly matters, but a constant, murmuring emergence, an ever exploring meaning. Here in our heart a spring rises from its endless roots and meets the air of our awareness-- rippling, shining, silently singing. Let our hands and eyes be midwives, then, when needed. We can ease these transformations with a little understanding. Let our eyes and hands love the hidden heart and guide its travels for we are hearts and more, wide minds, capable, some times, of comprehending--peacefully-- the sometimes searing duality and finding in its balance a way to, briefly, crucially, meet its blade with peace-- to use the energy of dissolving and the energy of emerging simultaneously to transform one more moment.
0
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC
The energy of transforming
I hold a heart in my hands-- mine or yours, it hardly matters. It's a cup of sweet pain-- sweet because it contains a new world in each potential swirling drop. Sweet because we can taste each world. And the pain is just a sharpening, in this moment, of memories-- of our longing for this new world-- for birth-- to take what is now real, but hidden, and let it ripple and be unveiled-- this world hidden in our hearts, too big, it aches because it is ready, pressing against its hidden containment-- we may not hold it in too long-- Life carries on with its own force, seen or unseen, the new world emerges in love from the old, warm and slowly scarred-- one new and ripe with life and will, the other worn and wise, ready to go quiet--where it will vanish, covered and concealed, dissolved then secretly congealed, gathering a secret pulse and vibrant eye, to once again--for the first time in all of time--emerge and be revealed-- Our hearts seem like vessels but they are constantly transforming from old to new, from hidden to emergent to present. We have no one heart, yours or mine, it hardly matters, but a constant, murmuring emergence, an ever exploring meaning. Here in our heart a spring rises from its endless roots and meets the air of our awareness-- rippling, shining, silently singing. Let our hands and eyes be midwives, then, when needed. We can ease these transformations with a little understanding. Let our eyes and hands love the hidden heart and guide its travels for we are hearts and more, wide minds, capable, some times, of comprehending--peacefully-- the sometimes searing duality and finding in its balance a way to, briefly, crucially, meet its blade with peace-- to use the energy of dissolving and the energy of emerging simultaneously to transform one more moment.
Written by
sn-mrax
American
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC
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