Bleeding Hearts

 This bleeding heart for cause or care,

Empties ones soul bringing forth more than I can bear.

For I cannot save this world from heartache or pain

As I can no longer save even myself

From the humanness of my own personal shame

So, fill I the cracks in this bleeding heart

So, fill it I do with stone and mortar

thus mending my weary soul before it parts.

So hence, now unto all… a heart have I of cold and stone

A heart, which no longer bleeds, a heart to one alone.

Of this way, this path so come I, as to face not another.

Alone, separate and indifferent,

with no sister, with no brother.

Yes, oh yes to this now bitter old man,

Who has steeled his emotions by choice, by desire, by plan.

Yet, for what I see now in this strange and different light,

Is that I see and feel nothing of this worlds miserable plight.

For it is behind this wall of stone, in which I hide,

Thinking, oh thinking, that I have at last truly saved myself,

 only to realize…. I've died.

J. Allen Wilson © 2005