It is said to have heart in what you do,
to pour it out - but it is not so,
only through restraint is it learned :
to listen, carefully, carefully,
for it is so slow, like rivers flows
through both Thou and Thy.
But it is not in detachment neither
for with emotions must read
and listen to the voices in words,
for it is a gesture, a touching
of fingers which runs under skin
through nerves until it reach
the pinnacle between the eyes.
Yet, it's not on our foreheads for
what is an eye but a way
to be moved, to be shown, to be
to be caressed, to be loved
for it is a silent song which runs
beneath the streams of it.
I am yours, I am yours, like a tear
which on pearls was laid
but it is so deadly - for so,' so
like a hags claw in the crib
which tries to take the infant
for its mind is unshaped
to then make it theirs instead
then it's no more ours.
For many an ill-will was made
out of jealousy to then
listen by the doors and windows
to take what's not theirs
for children are still innocent
by either corrupted.
To never leave it unattended,
for with Hearth must be
to raise an infant as children
into adulthood comes,
that it is not switched or taken;
for into its skin was writ
in the womb our true names
by the songs we sang to it.
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