the heart pulses,
throbs. it is alive, and it beats rapidly
to the rhythm that one can only hear inside.
and in the midst of the pulsing,
the insides are fragile,
contract, expand, contract - glass tubes,
transparent and about to break ...
they say dreams feed the heart,
nourish it, give it strength,
allow it courage to go on.
but the heart cannot endure,
yet another empty vision, a sweet delusion,
that in the end, becomes only dust and wind.
free from the dreams,
free from the illusions,
life moves on, and the insides remain fragile,
until strengthened by the hope that remains in
the stable, the strong and the solid,
the heart will beat in tune to
the rhythm of duty, a firm and unwavering march,
and the inside, a bastion of reality ...
what is the future lies in your hands.
No comments:
Post a Comment