Influx of the heart

Bursts of inspiration shoot from that in-between place
Tying my heart to my mind
I see them flicker and blaze like lighted wicks
But like wicks they too extinguish and becomes hard to find

This inspiration is the influx of my heart
Brimming and overwhelming all perceptive senses
And yet it is flawed and soon expires
Because it is mine and no one else’s

I realize that my nature
Does not exist to stand-alone
My heart too is not
To be possessed and to be owned

Against this nature some souls attempt to protest
Their rebellion is the cause of relentless distress
Eagerly shutting their eyes, they become dispossessed
And despair is borne of inspiration, misused and digressed

To be hollow is not to be empty inside
Just as a flute channels soft lullabies
To be hollow leaves room, free from self-pity or pride
So too beds of earth create stretches for tides

For crystalline streams and teal masses of waters
For gardens of blossoms, whose beauty never falters
When empty of self, inspiration also flows
Because with true acquiescence, it is always bestowed

Beds that cover their chests and fill up their arms
With rocks and weeds are like untended farms
They are left alone, and are left to bemoan
The wasted earth, through which nothing was sewn

Unqualified love and calm determination
Qualities that draw endless confirmations
Constitute the very strongest of foundations
When they open the heart to divine inspiration