Bleeding hearts
a name that sounds
so sad
as if the tiny pink hearts
bleed out their joy
shriveling into wrinkles
of unhealthy hearts
shrinking;
yet,
when a heart is filled
with love
the love seems to multiply
on its own
until the tiny heart
expands, beyond itself,
overflowing with joy
a tiny tendril
reaches out
inviting others
to share in the joy
in the love;
the heart flourishes
blossoming into a fountain
of love
which begets love.
Namaste,
L and Muse
He stretched himself awake. His arms reached forward into the darkness, sliding back through the smooth, dusty floor. He reached forward again, this time elongating the stretch back through his legs. His back arching more fully, a bow pulled tautly about to release the arrow. Sighing deeply, he freed his muscles from the stretch and lay prostrate upon the earth.
His eyes moved to the ever-running water in front of him. He closed his eyes, mentally tracing the water’s source. It originated from high in the mountains where the water sometimes trickles, sometimes oozes, and sometimes rushes to feed the river. Parts of the river are fast-running rapids that gush through the steep terrain; the water shoots its way around the rocks and rushes forward—without concern, without thought. Focused, it longs to merge with the sea so far away, smoothing the rock bed along the way and carefully forging new paths when necessary.
He smiled remembering the moment where the downward slope transforms into a deceptive river. It is at that intersection that the current creates the dangerous whirlpools that suck the unsuspecting into the down current. This spot lasted only for a moment before transforming into the illusion of placid water. The surface brilliantly reflecting in the sunlight, but he had been beneath that façade, swimming in the fervent current, still pining for the sea. The warmth of the surface lasting for less than a moment before the icy reality of the under current caught hold of him, urging him to also join the journey for something greater.
He gasped replaying the moment where the rapids again began just before the cliff where the water would hang for a moment on the edge. It was in that moment that he had wondered if he would die, but it was also in that moment where he released fear and became one with the water. Together, they plummeted hundreds of feet into the pool below. He gasped again recalling the freedom as gravity pulled them a bit closer to their destination. He had no weight, no control, no connection to the earth. He was exhilaration.
Like the water, he hit the pool like a stone dropped from the peak of the eagle’s flight. The current again swept him well beneath the surface and away from the pummeling of the falling water. He surfaced gasping for air in a pool, which reflected the blue sky dotted with wisps of clouds, the trees lining the shoreline, and the blooming flowers just above the rocks. His breathing slowed as he glided toward the land; the soft water supporting him. He pulled his sore body out of the water and sprawled over the warm boulders, grateful for the sun’s warm embrace.
Now in the dark cave behind the rushing waterfall of memories, he remembered that upon those rocks his thoughts returned as he wondered why he had chosen a path that lead to the waterfall. Had he chosen? Had he known that the river fed a waterfall? Had he known how high the cliff was? He sighed now as he had sighed then. Thoughts flowed into his consciousness. Perhaps his muscles might’ve chosen differently if consulted, but his spirit soared now with the eagle high above the waterfall’s moment of release.
A tear formed in his left eye and trickled down his cheek and dropped from the bottom of his jaw, crashing onto the rock upon which he lay. The hot sun soaked up the tiny droplet. He smiled now, as he had then, relieved that he was more than just a tear so easily absorbed into the warm rock. His muscles had melted into that hot boulder, which dissolved his pain.
He closed his eyes now, trying to feel the hot summer sun warming his aching limbs, but the memory was too distant to conjure up the warmth that he craved now in the cold, wet cave behind the rushing waterfall. Again, his mind wandered back to that hot summer day when he found this cave, hidden behind the falling water.
He remembered waking on that boulder after what must’ve been hours later as the sun was now moving into the western sky, the warmth of the sun soaking life into his sore muscles, loosening that which was taut. He inhaled the nourishing air, tenderly massaging his lungs and nurturing his heart with oxygen. He exhaled gradually, completely.
As if in meditation, he tilted his head and noticed the brilliant dots growing just on the edge of the rocks lining the still pool. Squinting, he concentrated his eyes on those vivid magenta baubles bobbing slightly in the gentle breeze. With a wincing groan, he maneuvered his body to have a better look at them. They were magnificent flowers like tiny hearts broken open, bleeding.
Tears formed in his eyes. He had never seen such a flower in all of his travels. He breathed now, the sadness and hurts of recent events surfacing. He wondered how the thousands of miniature broken hearts had collected here; perhaps he reasoned they were drawn to the serene pool where they were able to simply exist, protected in such a vulnerable state. He gasped, recognizing his own heart mirrored as thousands of tiny bleeding hearts. His heart began to squeeze, but no pain, no sadness, no hurts emanated from these delicate beings; instead, these hurts had been transformed into beautiful reminders that life blossomed when rooted in inner peace.
His eyes closed; he again accepted the warmhearted embrace of earth’s star, which tugged him into a sitting position. With a half-smile, he blinked through his watery eyes grateful for the healing that the tiny blossoms offered. He wiggled his body, checking for lingering aches and pains but found none. He stood and danced on the rocks, leaping between them. Each jump lightened his burdens until he felt deep within that he was able to fly like the eagle now soaring high above in the expansive blue sky.
He turned to face the waterfall, mesmerized by fast-falling droplets that created the illusion of connected water flowing together, eager to reach the peace pool. The sunlight danced on the plunging water, sparkling like millions of stars. He must’ve stood there for hours because when the sun transitioned to the far horizon, no longer able to reach the waterfall directly, he noticed a dark area just behind the falling water.
Curious, he began his journey, intent on exploring what was creating such dark contrast to the white water. His heart raced aware that this new discovery might reveal another part of himself, like the tiny bleeding hearts. Effortlessly, he climbed the rocks until he was very near to the darkness. His logic told him to stop, but some primal need for challenge urged him forward. He took a deep breath and lunged into the waterfall, unwilling to be scared by his memory of the hard rocks below.
He surged through the wall of water straight into the darkness, his eyes shut. He landed on hard rock and held his breath wondering if he had just died. Then he stretched himself safe. His arms reached forward, exploring the darkness, sliding back on the smooth, dusty floor—home of the black panther.
Namaste,
Candlelight Chats 