SuziCate's Musings

Posts tagged ‘heart’

Beyond

In all the days

I could not be

I did not realize

when living in a haze

my spirit will not free

therefore, my mind tells lies.

Beyond a mind that strays

I find the heart of me

who both laughs and cries.

In all the ways

I cannot see

I’ve found my heart has eyes.

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Lila

The seat of desire is the womb of creation, bringing heart to life. It’s through nature’s play, we express our inner most, giving form to voice. Carefree and playful by right, the true self rises to birth the soul’s art

The seat of desire
is the womb of creation,
bringing heart to life.
It’s through nature’s play,
we express our inner most,
giving form to voice.
Carefree and playful
by right, the true self rises
to birth the soul’s art

Perceptions

IMG_0939

I do not know the weight of mud,

the way they say it sucks you down

and throws upon you what you’ve outgrown;

but I do know the weight of blood,

how it ties you to life, to love,

and to people you’ve never known.

 

I know too well the lapse of days,

the way minutes disappear into years

and the shrinking time leads my fears;

but I do not know if spirit stays

when bound to this plan, to this love

of listening to what the heart hears.

 

I do not know the flight of bird,

the arc of wing or speed of air

or if he flies without a care;

but I do know the might of word,

whether it was kind and fair

or when spoken pain was spared.

 

I do not know the stretch of trees,

if their long arms dare to hug the sun

while underground roots continually run;

but I do know the catch of please,

how you are obligated to do or be done

as if you were ever really anyone.

 

And yet I know the cost of wind,

what is lost when  breath lets go

and that which was will cease to know;

and better, I know the frost of sin

when all bitterness returns to snow.

In the cold, life and love still grow.

Spirit Song

When your spirit sings a song the heart has written before time began, like a butterfly you grow wings of color and you begin to soar.

When your spirit sings
a song the heart has written
before time began,
like a butterfly
you grow wings of color and
you begin to soar.

Fueling The Fire

 

Heaviness of crimson tears

Wrench the thinker to pieces

A scorch to the heart

A torch to the soul

The turning and clashing

When burning with passion

Unleashing the fury

Of a glass half full

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