The heart is a wondrous, mighty thing–
a splintered orb circling its crooked axis,
sending off a blitz of encrypted messages.
In blimps, codes and point-blank,
it won’t stop telling us what we need to hear.
The heart echos it’s directive–
it keeps returning to the same thing.
This has been a season of tumultuous storms,
and I am drenched down to my shivering bones.
This has been a period of becoming well-versed in matters of the heart.
Like a needy child tugging at the hem of my pants,
the heart has funny ways of getting my attention.
In its rushing, it has shown me that I need to slow down
so as not to tire myself out–so as not to burn out.
Its racing has show me that not all things need to be chased.
Its insistent pounding has offered me glimpses of eternity–
moments where there is nothing else in the world except
what is happening right at that very silver of time and space.
It has shown me how to give my undivided attention to the present,
and how to tame the chaos of my wandering mind.
It has shown me how weary one gets when they ignore
the pleadings and yearnings of their heart.
It has shown me that its voice is one to trust–always.
In all things, the heart is fighting to keep us alive,
leading us ever-deeper into the forest of our fortune.