Sunday, May 15, 2011

Another Sunday Night

Where is my mind? Another late night (or at least it seems late on my new up with the chickens asses at dinner time sleep schedule) and sleep is elusive.
Empathy and I have a love hate relationship.
On the dark days, I feel too much, I feel it all the pain, the disappointment, the confusion of my dear ones. With my heart, large and strong, I take it because I love them all, more than I love my own peace of mind. I am the martyr once more. Take me, cold and dark night, and spare those that have taken up residency in the warm folds of my heart. I go willingly, and with a mind clear and ready to accept the worst that they have to offer.
These lips will never betray the heartsick thoughts you have whispered sacredly into my ears.
I meditate, deep and true, to heal the wounds I have willingly allowed to be inflicted on my own psyche. I am the shaman of my heart, and I will heal it with all of the love and kindness being offered up by others who slip into the stream of semi consciousness that is the meditative mind. I am surrounded by light and feel love pour into me, rebuilding me so that I might once again pass what I find onto you.

Not all days are dark...there are days that all of those that I cherish shine and lift me up. Today, however, was not that day. The sky and the hearts who live under it were a mirror. I held out a light for those who wandered, and watched it flicker but never sputter, beckoning for them to come forward and share their burdens.
I will man the coals of loves light, keeping them warm and bright so that they might offer up their protection for any that may wander close. Come close, aching heart, for my flames were meant to warm you, mind, body, and soul. I am familiar with your path. Give me purpose. Touch my heart, the war torn mess that it is and marvel at its tenacity. It beats still, steady and strong in spite of scars from wounds that should have been fatal. Draw from it a hope that the days will not always be dark, that light is waiting to burst through and that someone loved you enough to listen.

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