With my heart in my hand,
all that is light of protective I summon,
I need this message,
to calm more than one.
I make comments a reply or two,
for I know,
it makes a difference when I do.
My word is my heart,
no denying its true.
I feel I must tell you this,
before I forget I wanted to.
My art hangs upon my altar worn,
for in these flaws I’m able to feel torn.
My soul has no emotion,
yet, she bleeds with intense passion,
she can truly feel,
and knows her own affliction.
As direct as the pointing finger,
I know her…..
Close you eyes meditate within,
that is where you lay,
all memory of where you’ve been.
Its not easy so to say,
yet, its not hard,
to push replay–to ignore the sway.
The wind cares not what you do,
for after in your own choice,
your soul will stew.
With my heart in my hand,
I’m here, not afraid to fall nor stand,
I’ll do both,
and be the ticking time of dripping sand.