~ The
Speared
Heart ~
The
heart is
like a
beating
orb
Plump with
Life's
emotion
But human
sounds
from jaded
lips
Infuse a
deadly
potion.
Like a
lance, a
deed can
kill,
Spearing
every
vision,
And leaves
the heart
to beat no
more,
Slain,
with such
precision.
The
speared
heart
pulses
not,
It dwells
in cold
subsistence-
And pumps
with stiff
rigidity
Which
suits its
feigned
existence…
But like
the sap
within a
tree
Life's
blood
begins to
flow
And brings
sweet
essence to
the heart
Once
battered
blow by
blow…
The
speared
heart,
though
slightly
torn
Rallies
round its
bruises
And starts
to beat
with hope
once more-
And all
because it
chooses...
~*~
Sharon
Frye
©
2005
Heroes
of
the
Heart
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