I always tell myself that I have no more love to give the world.
And suddenly some thing arrives. Some plant long neglected or some tiny creature. Some broken heart or lost soul.
Endlessly, I always find just a little more love to give. A little more of myself to doll out into the universe.
Once I find that little bit of my heart, I give it willingly. Free of expectation but brimming with hope.
One should think they would feel empty with so much giving. But in reality, every moment of love given to something else makes your heart that much bigger, and your shoulders that much stronger.
So love without restraint – that pure and innocent and altruistic sort of love which one can give just the same to the tiniest seed, the girl who just needs to see a smile, or the fragile baby bird fallen from its nest.
I love this private world I’ve created for myself, here among the words of a million other minds.
Where I can type the song that plays in my heart, be it heavy or feather light with no fear of someone asking me, “are you sure you’re alright?”.
I follow diverse and brilliant writers
And occasionally am followed by them
And so many gifts are blessed upon me; the freedom to say as I feel, the words of others to bury myself in when I have no words of my own, to know someone is listening even if I say I want that not, and the satisfying release of pent up feelings with no where to go -in a healthy sort of fashion.
Also the ability to appropriately express my love for dashes and run on sentences.
Thank you WordPress
I constantly feel half in love
And it is the heaviest feeling
To be charmed, and wounded endlessly
But I break myself
Upon the stone of your walls
Building my own that much thicker.
I wish at times that there was an island
for sad ugly girls to disappear to
As their hearts become too heavy to go on.
Then I remember that there is
And I am too much a coward to venture there.
So I’ll while away my days
And find beauty in the smallest of things.
I will fake my smiles
I will be the moon – reflecting the happiness of the world around me.
But always I will long
For that island made for sad and ugly girls.
This cool and dewy morning
Screams fall into my bones
The air so light and crisp
With clouds so swollen low
And summer is forgotten
Though she has weeks yet till she shows
Her auburn hair and golden eyes
Autumn in her full design
The smell of clover wafting
Across sunlit open plains
Replaced by musky grasses
And the sloughs they hide from sight
Sweet summer ebbs discretely
Into her sister autumn