The Pen and The Wind

I gave my heart to a woman,
I hoped she would return with her own,
But she rejected and threw it out,
My cold crushed heart lay on the ground.

I hoped she would return with her own,
I felt such a fool for thinking she would share love,
My cold crushed heart lay on the ground,
Beginning to weep and mourn I fell down.

I felt such a fool for thinking she would share love,
Those who shared my heart rallied ‘round,
Beginning to weep and mourn I fell down,
They picked me up off the ground.

Those who shared my heart rallied ‘round,
And consoled and mend my broken self,
They picked me up off the ground,
Friend’s love healing a heart thrown on the ground. 

I know not if we are bound by threads of fate,
But I know that we are meant to be bound.
For the heart is not a vault to keep all about us,
But a stream, meant to flow,
Between one point to another,
A constant flow of knowledge, emotion, and spirit,
Such movement, it is a single flow,
The waters of the soul that invigorate us,
That is more important to heart and soul than blood,
Comes from two hearts connected,
And with flow strengthened when more join,
The human heart a river,
The flow of all being channeled through,
Into a current that cannot be stopped,
But only strengthen when you allow it to wash over you. 

A person after my own heart,
No matter the distance they give strength,
The bolster to mind and spirit,
Without them, I would have long collapsed,
But they came inside my heart,
And propped up a crumbling wall with a heart of their own,
Then they go to work,
Slowly going about their repairs,
Until I can stand on my own,
And am more stable than ever,
I find myself with a new addition though,
A hallway, a connection,
Binding two hearts together for eternity,
And off we can live,
Forever bound by soul.

Frayed and threadbare tapestry,
The interwoven human experience
Tattered through the years,
What becomes of the human soul?
The divided soul functions like the Atma,
Drawing strength, growing larger, but only,
When connection is made, and the boundaries of the self blur,
What of the connections that the world eludes and shuns?
Are we scared of what we may find of ourselves,
Or in the collective of unity?
Do we fear the friction of our threads igniting?
Destroying each other in the interwoven blaze?
We should not fear such a simple thing,
As one heart reaching to another,
And in a moment of truth sharing all of itself,
Only to be known, and loved for what it really is,
Is that such a scary thought?
Dare we allow ourselves to connect once again,
And repair the tapestry that is humanity?

I sat with you for hours on end, 
Simply talking,
About every whim that came to us,
And noting unimportant,
A simple pleasure,
But it filled us to the brim and we just continued,
An unseen synchronicity between two,
Connected by bonded voice and mind,
It left me so very happy,
But in that happiness I sensed something amiss,
And promptly woke, 
From that cruel, taunting dream. 

“You can talk with me anytime,”
I say this far too much.
You’d think it’d stem conversation,
But never leads to such.

“You can talk with me anytime,”
I should no longer ever say.
It should forge a deeper connection,
But just leaves me alone at the end of the day.

“You can talk with me anytime,”
 This, you’ll no longer see. 
Because though I offer to console you,
I just want you to acknowledge me.  

“Hey, what’s up?”
-

“What’s going on?”
- 

“Are you alright?”

-
“Care to chat?”

-
“ Hey, when you get the time, I’d like to talk with you about something.”

-
“Hey, would you care to talk?”

-
“Would you like some help?”

-
“What’s this about you feeling incapable of love?”

-
“Don’t feel bad, I still care about you.”

-
“How are you doing?”

-
“I haven’t heard from you in a while, what’s going on?”

-
“So, what’s this about people not trying to connect with you?”

Still awaiting a response from you, 
Though, I guess connecting is so hard to do.