Brave Heart

BRAVE HEART

My words are my only escape,
From the prison of oppression,
From a society that hides and covers,
That pretends and defends,
Crimes against humanity,
For sanity is the sanctuary of love,
That protects my sensitive heart.

I don’t want to bury the treasure,
I don’t want to buy fools gold,
I want to live with authenticity,
I want to feel the electricity,
The synchronicity,
Of feeling my potential meet its highest peak.

My feeling has woven words,
Into a tapestry of the finest pearls,
On the loom of my highest expression,
There is no pretension,
Only a romantic tension,
For I have revealed my inner light,
To you.

These were my greatest moments,
For I touched the sacred and the profane,
I rose to the most profound,
And fell in such pain,
On the sword of your silence.

The rose of my love,
Met the thorns of your ambivalence,
It was not the reception of friends,
But the back alley behind the façade,
Where I find myself homeless,
For I am starved,
There is no substance,
To sustain my wilting petals,
Dropping to the ground like tears,
As the rose withers and dies,
For the grape vine can no longer climb,
To great heights,
In the absence of lightness.

You are the wall that has no door,
You are the maize,
That is riddled with puzzles,
For the game hides all its cards,
For it aims to give nothing away,
And the card up the sleeve,
Is the joker,
Which fools the innocent,
But never laughs until the game is over.

Love is the silent temptress,
Seducing the heart from its sleep,
Awakening to the warmth of golden dew,
The sparkling wine of the sublime,
Exploding in a celebration of joy,
Intoxicated with the bubbles of dreams,
For the world is rose coloured,
Until you awaken.

In truth it is the dream that is real,
For the realists uncover the facts,
By stealing the feeling,
For one cannot fish without a hook,
One must be sharp,
One must be callous,
For hardness is the only protection,
That thickens with abuse.

The idealists are held in contempt,
For dreamers are in another world,
Of their making,
Yet the world is made in our image,
For what you see,
Is your creation,
The mirror of reflections,
That gathers selections,
For I live to the highest ideals,
Which seals my fate.

For empathy turns away in apathy,
Gratitude becomes attitudes that harden resolve,
There are no cracks in the dam wall,
As I fall the ground is hard,
I have broken my wing,
As I flounder to gain a foothold,
I am destitute,
For the dove cannot be heard,
From such a deep depression,
For no-one is listening to the call,
Of children’s voices.

I will be saved by the rising tide,
That gently rescues my ailing heart,
For I am carried on the wings of angels,
For the dove of peace,
Extends the olive branch,
To those who reject the peace offering,
For they are at war with themselves,
For conflict knows no peace,
For it prefers to remain in darkness,
So no light can show up the shadows,
Which grow larger as fear takes flight,
For to fight for love,
Means surrender,
To let go and free fall,
For the softest of landings,
Awaits the bravest heart,
For only a brave heart,
Comes home,
To heal.