It is insane, how much of ourselves we pour into others.
How deeply we love, hope and believe.
And how we gaze at our men,
All lazy eyed and opened hearts,
As if- their fingertips could caress open wounds
And soothe the heart of she who cannot see
How beautiful God has made her.
It is in vain
That we try to unearth the secrets of the universe,
That we learn the stars
As though God had left a map of our destinies we could trace,
We create charts.
Venus is of love-they say
And the meaning of life is whispered into the secret language of the winds.
But if we could only understand
If we could only understand, that this is all in vain.
That loving a man will not make you beautiful.
That he cannot love you, when you are incapable of loving yourself
And he can break you; leave you staring at the moon,
Eyes reflecting a silent cry for all the times you’ve bled and all the times you’ve healed.
But you will heal and will live.
Just as the rain fertilises a barren field,
You will blossom.
And you will come to know that there is no fountain of youth,
The young, no more immortal than the old.
And the meaning of life is not concealed in the hieroglyphics of ancient caves
Nor is it muted by the murmurings of desert winds
But clear in the small mercies of everyday.
A child whispering into the ear of his broken mother
“Everything is going to be okay”.
That love is not written in the stars;
In the palm of a fortune teller,
Or in the heat of a drunken moment.
But in the eyes of a man
Who after thirty years of marriage,
Still tells his wife that she is beautiful
And places kisses across the scars of where her breast used to be.
I have seen in the faces of strangers
A sign from God
That everything is going to be okay.
(A work in progress....its been awhile! :D)
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