A wounded heart
is a gaping ocean
where seeds of wisdom
are sown by the silent winds of sorrow.
Like a morning frozen by dew
untouched depths
but each line
reflects the light that has been lost
like the sun resting on the horizon
never truly gone.
Between the cracks of the soul
grow flowers of patience
their petals are wet with tears
and their roots sink
into the soil full of secrets
a place where longing resides
a place where hope learns to speak in silence.
There is nothing deeper
than a wound that teaches us
to know life with all our hearts.
When dawn breaks
there is no bright path waiting
only the sky bowing
like a hand ready to welcome
the sadness that still remains.
And in tired footsteps
there is unspoken wisdom
a journey that never ends
but always returns to the same home
inside a self that has been forged by time
like a fire that never goes out.
Wounds are not the end
they are just open doors
to a wider space
where beauty is hidden
in the unseen fragility.
And in that fragility
a wisdom is born again that guides
like the stars that appear after the rain
guiding us to our true home
in the ever-growing soul.
