Alone, not enough
But what can be accomplished,
So many bleeding hearts
on display wherever I go.
Why so many?
Why don’t you
fix the economy,
destroy the Abuser,
deal Poverty its death-blow,
and heal this land?
Why don’t you
You already did?
Oh, I see.
You sent me…
Well, what can I do?
I am only one!
Don’t you see all those bleeding hearts
hanging in the balance?
You want me to do what?
One bleeding heart at a time.
With Your help.
I can do that,
if you will help me.
You already are?
I remember now.
You are Big,
and You are Strong.
Which one, Lord?
Winding, winding, ever winding.
Incessantly insistently stubbornly winding,
Path called to reluctant Feet.
As always, she could only see a few steps in front of her nose;
Obscurity wore the pants in this relationship.
Path liked to cloak itself in mysterious profundity,
Slinking under sheets of rain,
Shrouded in turban-cloths wound into mist,
Wrapping itself tightly into fists of fog.
And always, her feet followed at Path’s insistence.
Somewhere ahead, somewhere she hadn’t been yet, was
The Self that she sought in her dreams.
Always elusive, always fleeting,
She caught glimpses reflected from the microscopic mirror-specks of
Vapour hanging pregnant in the saturated air.
Fractured form and function,
Her shattered Self mocked with seven year’s bad luck.
And yet –
The Prophesy that drove her on, that fuelled her falter,
That cried through the whispers between leaves,
Promised a rainbow of Self fulfilled;
Quest beat with courage of steel in housing of paper.
So on Feet crept, blindly faithful,
Winding, winding, ever winding…
Dark weaves a nightmare at awkward angles
And dares the Light to break in.
Dark blinds a viewpoint with tunnel-vision
And obscures all the places you’ve been.
Light strikes a match at the crucial moment
And shines through prison walls;
Light blasts a path to the road not taken
And smiles when Darkness falls…