By Rowan Blair Colver
Once there was a man like me,
Who wore his heart upon his sleeve,
And everyone in the land could see,
The things that gave his heart its beat,
All too easy for the hollow to be,
Self positioned perfectly,
For games this man just could not see,
Let alone know how to win,
Walk away from it all,
Do the right thing,
But his heart hurt so much,
So mighty and so bruised,
No medicine was enough,
Nothing was of any use,
So he hugged his heart,
Tight to his chest,
Kept it so close,
Protected and dressed,
In love and compassion,
The embrace carried light,
Something just felt right,
And inward it flowed,
Into self the heart wanted to go,
And he allowed it inside,
And the unbearable pain,
He was unable to hide,
But after some time,
Uncounted, unmeasured, unimportant time,
The heart was where it works best,
Safe and encased in a temple,
In the heart shaped hollow in his chest.
rowan blair colver