Yes she is quiet.
Perceptive as well.
Words are like treasures
Rising from her heart
And falling from her lips.
Saved only to share
With those who treat them as such.
Much
Like
Her
Love.
Yes she is quiet.
Perceptive as well.
Words are like treasures
Rising from her heart
And falling from her lips.
Saved only to share
With those who treat them as such.
Much
Like
Her
Love.
Our ancestors speak in
Whispers
To the soul.
They have learned,
They know
That when speaking in
Loud rumblings,
In anger
You cannot hear.
This is what echoes back to you.
So,
They whisper in love and kindness
When all is quiet
To remind us
Of
The way.
Strong love.
Quiet love.
Steady love.
His was such the love of a
Gentle
Warrior.
Have you ever considered?
The tears.
I am my own comfort.
There is solace in the silence.
In the dark.
It is there that I lay
The ache bare.
Defenseless.
Solitaire.
My agony.
And when the bottomless torment
(Which has no name)
subsides,
I will wrap it up tight
And tuck it away.
Not to come out again until
It is too heavy and thorny
To carry in the quiet.
Quiet your soul
And breathe.
Stand in the field of
Infinite possibility
And feel love become
Every sense of your
Being.
Embrace
The stillness in your heart
And then maybe you
Will start
To feel the calmness
In your storm
As you head
For the
Unknown.
One day
I realized
If I slept too long
I would miss the moments
When the world was quiet.
I would miss
Beauty awakening
And
The first gentle caress of
Light in my world.
I would miss
The silent whisper of the day saying
“Here I am in all my glory just for you. Use me up until there is nothing left.”