Inside These Fortress Walls

Blender_3d_Castle_Render

If I could get enough of a running start
I would leap above these walls (you’ve erected)
catapult myself straight into your heart.
I would join you inside your fortress
and never look back

I would dodge every cannon ball
each and every archer’s arrow
I would fight an entire army
I would slay every pharaoh

I would spread my wings and fly
clear this serpent-filled moat (you’ve constructed)
glide through your lantern-lit window
and land softly upon your chamber floor,
I would gather you gently
behind this closed fortress door.

I would humbly kneel before you
hold out my  scimitar sword..
~
you can run it right through me
without a single word.

But as stillness embraces this darkest of night
I beg you to witness this weary phoenix’s flight
With tattered wings
I risked all for your heart,
I saw the end of this journey
before I saw the start.

If you would allow me to stay
and give me a chance
this is the last play
my very last dance
What it comes down to in the end
is what’s right and what’s true –
In the end its just me
and its you.

Reaching Flames

 


We humans were made to be commanded by our hearts;
this shell we haul around was a consequence,
a cloak to hide among others.

True love is to remain hidden
in the mysterious combustible chambers of the heart,
it’s fire casting light through the eyes.

This is how we recognize love –
by the depth of the hidden fire,
and the length of the reaching flames.

http://phosphorimental.com/

fire

 

Solitude

Andre Brito Photography

Within this solitude,
I have grown in ways I never knew possible.
I have delved deeper into the caverns
of each chamber
of this sacred abode
we call the Heart,
and discovered there is no end..
It is a perpetually incessant journey.

I continue to swim,
propelled through this bloodstream, ~ this heart’s dream..
my tears becoming one with the ocean
within the vessel that carries me forth.

Guided by a gentle hand, the inward immersion continues..
It is dark.. warm..
it envelopes me.
I cannot see .. rather I feel,
moving by the sight of faith.

There is safety in this sanctuary,
the guiding hand a cord,
the darkness a soothing, protective womb.

I inhale deeply —
as I hear the voice whisper:
 everything is allegory
      pain is a sculptor (it keeps us upright)
         love is a painter (his brush divinely guided)
            lust is a cello… (but what good is an instrument without a song to sing?)
and I am ecstatically transported to Tagore:
I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument 
while the song I came to sing remains unsung.”

I exhale cathartically —
Releasing..

It seems an eternity between the inhale ~ and the exhale..
a lifetime between each breath.

cello