There's a poem in my heart that has no words

 

There’s a poem in my heart

that has no words.

What exists before silence

erupts into sound?

Is it a longing to create

or the creation waiting to be born?

It is the questions

that have more meaning

than the answers.

For now, I stay close

to the stirring in my heart,

slowing right down

to meet the essence of creation

that is always there

often shining unseen.

Sometimes it explodes into life

as an unexpected firework

that fizzles back into nothingness

like a falling star.

And sometimes it writes

steadily across a blank page

so sure of itself

that it wants to be tattooed

directly on skin.

Whether it takes permanent form,

disappears

or nothing emerges,

all is the gift of the great mystery.

Being here

whether there are words or silence

is to be truly alive.

The form does not matter

and the meaning does not require words.