It Hangs on My Heart

A sheepish persona traversing slender actions unseen

The spirit of something Divine

Gifts treasured in a blanket of internal sanctuary

Blossoming features of duplicity

Graves marked only by the people who visit them

Time carries on in limited disclosure

Regrets come from a placid place of inner knowledge

Trying to break from complacent postures of indifference

Kissing the honey lips of silence

Troublesome dreams...

Or maybe a prophetic symbol of the time at hand

Which power divinely empowers you?

Speak of secrets unheard

Travel with the lightness of spring in gypsies poses

Every step a deeply seeded secret—a gift

What to pass on and what to keep personal and private

Neil Diamond sings “Stones” in a meter of time unparalleled

Creeping into the places not yet protected

Keeping close to the heart of your soul—today—always

Will you play me like a record?

With all the scratches and skips as in days of past times long ago

The flesh and the spirit collide—responsive to the true nature of life

This is what hangs on my heart