#Heart
Into The Mystic
This is a book of magical poetry.
That will inspire you and perhaps life some burden off your shoulders.
Come with me on this beautiful dance of words. If you would like to purchase this Ebook and need it in a different format or language we can arrange that for you. Cover design by Ravenscraft Studios.
THE FINAL FIRST TIME
The first time they held hands…
as they walked along the shore…
was when they began to understand…
what hands were created for.
The first time they hugged one another
felt like they had never hugged before…
it was then they began to understand
what arms were created for.
The first time their lips met
left each of them wanting more
and it was then they began to understand
what lips were created for.
The first time they fell in love
they knew it would last forevermore
and it was then they began to understand
what hearts were created for.
(untitled)
If at the moment of conception our life becomes not our own.
What do we become, but the skin of another, whichs turns to waste.
copyright RW Erskine 2018
Ravenscraft Studios
WHISPERS OF THE HEART
He asked her how her life became so beautiful…
how she was the essence of elegance and mercy and art…
“I have always listened closely,” she said,
“to the whispers of my heart.”
You Contained the Universe
Your soft lips
Kiss my skin
Like a flower kissing the cool summer breeze
And it is so warm
And so cold
So soft
But so dangerous
Like a lion
You were bold
And unpredictable
Every movement
Was a mystery
But you were comfortable
And gentle
Like a mother bear
Protecting her own
And your freedom was so intoxicating
Like a hulk soaring through the open sky
Leaving trails of adventure in the air
And experience
You were wise
Like an owl looking into the starry night sky
Your eyes could be seen from miles away
Like headlights in a dark night
You gave light to everyone’s path
You were the most magnificent kind of person
Because you
You contained the universe
Be silent... be still...
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Goes the sound of my beating heart,
Pounding in my chest like a marching drum.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Be silent....
Be still....
Delegate! Properiate! Flume!
My mind is swirling, whirring,
rapid conudrum,
Zwoom! Zwoom! Zwoom!
Be silent...
Be still....
Tap-Tap! Tap-Tap! Tap-Tap!
The cement my feet do clap,
In their hurried pace,
POST HASTE!
Be silent...
Be still...
Nerves unended,
Heart is bounding high,
Sent my life a soaring,
Too scared to breathe,
For I may die.
Be silent...
Be still...
One longing touching,
One hopeful stare...
Be silent..
Be still...
My heart...
Oh my heart...
Be silent...
Be still..
How We See
When we are young...so very young...
I imagine from the start,
everything we see is beautiful
because we’re seeing with our heart.
As we grow older our vision changes
as does everything we see
for now we’re seeing with our heart and mind
and they often disagree.
Then we reach a certain age
I’m not sure exactly when...
we return to seeing with just our heart
and all is beautiful again.
And we sit back and we wonder...
Would our world be so torn apart
if every moment of every day
we saw only with our heart?
