Heart Instrument

Broken pieces
of the shattered heart instrument
with their jagged shards that rip and shred the skin,
can not be gathered by flesh covered hands.

Only to be gathered
by gentle fingers of a soul
that loves
and knows the pain
of a shattered heart.

Its light illuminating
prisms reflecting
forming a beautiful mosaic
born of a shattered symphony..

.. and the heart instrument
plays again.




“When there is stillness,
the Beloved enters like a mist.
I am disarmed of my words.
There are no empty pages to be found…
and my pen has run dry.
The hours gaze from a clock with no face
and I am delivered from the clutches of time and space.
My eyes reflect light from that of a lantern
held by a wayfaring messenger.
She says, ‘I am not writer, I am written…”

~ Skip Maselli @Proseplay