…for my heart

I am making lists for my heart
for she will keep them safe in place where they can never be erased
my personal book of hours, my secrets, my ritual recitations
my devotions and meditations
that briefly transport me to another life, a secular life
a realm of quiet observations
and acceptance of what is, in the absence of what is not
for promises are never set in stone
and an empty stream still carries the weight of its loss
luminous skies only disguise the darkness
veils of moonlight are never lost, but merely awaiting their time
the flowers of spring and the leaves of fall
will always return in their time
the songs of loss are also the songs of love
and the things that cannot be spoken, carry the most pain
but the wind will still whisper your name
the voice of solitude speaks louder than the crowds
and the music of the wind can be seen in everything it caresses
there is always light and there is always darkness
but it is the shadows that we should fear
the stars will not always light the way
but the essence of forgotten dreams still lingers in a distant place
souls once intertwined, pull apart and rewind
love is a delicate creature, a fragile fabric coming apart
all time is precious
but squandered moments can still be cast in gold
taking the harder path, is sometimes easier than you think
wishes don’t have to come true to bring you joy
our chains and cages are of our own making
the keys to freedom can be found
in the fathomless depths of our souls
where the ink of the poet flows
the most beautiful of blossoms can inflict the deepest wounds
and love cannot be sought and found
for it finds us in its own time
a meeting of hearts, a connection of souls
but in the end, even the best tied knots
must unravel into the ethers of time
© Ann Bagnall