What lies at the heart?

And when you choose to look within
do you assume you are a bird,
easily startled,
and so you look from far away
with telescopic lens,
keeping your distance
for fear this wild and tender heart
take wing and fly away?

Or will you know
yourself to be a flower,
rooted on a sturdy stalk,
cupped in green
and quivering in the wind,
and so draw close
and closer still
until the scent of love
breathes through your dreams
infusing them with color?



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