You punctured my heart
with instant space and the brittle heart you own.
And all I had to give you in return
was a broken gasp, and deep-felt warmth.
Wanting to hold and shield you,
to cup your face within my hands,
I wanted to whisper in your heart’s ears
that I see you:
fierce friend and brother,
the wings of a butterfly that has covered itself in ice
afraid of touching and being touched
afraid of feeling and not feeling anything at all…
while veiled by the illusion of control.
As the thoughts came flowing through my pen
the blood of gentle warriors
warmed my lips
and tears and moist poured from my eyes:
I wanted to hold you
but instead I witnessed
how your frozen wings began to flutter
echoing the beating of my own…
Garuda spans the Dragon’s dance
my breath was held
and in my mind
I held you closely so you could hear me softly say:
You are strength and beauty
fears and joy
a sentence dancing between night and day
more than words
courage moving to find its way.
Wrapped in stories that are just so,
we believe them to be Truth.
If Truth, they would define us…but as we hold them closely
their truth changes leaving us no trail at all…
Perhaps these stories are reflections,
patterns both and neither truth or not;
but at the core remains the essence:
the gem I see, that you forgot.
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