Where The Heart Must Turn
To heal the broken soul
Sleep overtakes me,
Why am I in this slumber so deep?
The wind carries me, scatters me here and there,
Why am I not flying, soaring, dancing in the air?
The ocean crashes me at shore,
Why am I not swimming, surfing the waves?
I am where I am always a bit too soon or a bit too late.
I go forward with steady steps,
Then stumble back do I in hell,
Then stand back do I again.
My heart, like the moon remains not full,
Waxing now, waning now, a crescent then.
Why not I heed the call, when silence spills its wisdom?
Like a flower must my heart tilt,
To the bright sun of of inner vision.
About the Creator
Nightingale
In writing, each letter becomes a symbol, each word a note, and each story the lyrics of a song to be sung to the rose.
More of my work under the pen name Nocturnea at:
www.triaprima.co
—— Nightingale
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It only took a minute. I was sitting at the computer in my office when the phone rang. I picked up the receiver and then laid it down my desk as I went to find the student who the call was for. Within seconds I was back at my desk, ready to resume typing, when I heard the student yelling obscenities at me for listening in to his call through the handset that was still lying on the desk. Sick and tired of the lies he was spewing, I was up running down the hall, ready to kill him. By the time I reached him, I had calmed enough not to hurt him, but as I turned back towards my room, I knew that I couldn’t go on like this any longer. The decision was clear. I had to leave.
By Gail Wylie5 days ago in Motivation
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