I'd like to believe it was love that found us, says trauma.
~ H a y t h a m T r u e h e a r t
About the Creator
Haytham Trueheart
Alevi. Poet.
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Universal Order
Stay in my arms, keep me warm, take me away to an island of cottage houses that live in heaven. If I could reside in a rose, sleep on a candle, eat grapes from the moon and have a bubble bath as my bed then joy would wake my soul every morning from the mountain. Gazing into the ethera from flesh to alternate realities; my soulmate is seen picking flowers, singing with the greenery, flipping pages lost in a book, barefoot soaking in a riverbed. While my wild hearted kids spur in a child’s world dispersed in the wilderness of Mother Earth’s fortress. An immeasurable treasure filled of pain and pleasure such is the adventure of life. An experience that unfolds you to your core, shedding layers to your purpose and the one course to take is… suffering. A blessing or curse? Advantage or disadvantage? Suppose you could say it differs between individuals. For he who has been wounded and healed learns to stitch others. And it’s when death ground swallows you that you’re made to dig into the trenches of your neglected parts. It is then when meaning is uncovered and you fall into the universe but realise it was just the doorstep of your soul. Preordained by the structurelessness of time’s myth every piece will fill when it’s destined in the open passage universal order. The heart’s deepest desires will blossom when the season is right.
By Haytham Trueheart2 years ago in Poets
The ocean and my little friend
The ocean and my little friend The sound of the waves crash my body moving with the tides the current is then taking over. As I let my body relax in the water and I gradually take a deep breath back up to the surface the water is then taking control of my body moving me further away from reality. As I’m swimming I feel such love and peace in the water as I move further away, I keep feeling the movement of the waves crashing down on me.
By Jennifer lindquist7 days ago in Poets
Pandora’s Burden
“My brother warned me to not accept gifts from the one who commissioned you,” said Epimetheus to the woman clad in silvery raiments standing at the entrance to the temple. Her silver tiara and the silver rings on her fingers and toes glinted in the firelight cast by torches set on either side of the doorway. Lingering in the shadows, beyond the reach of the flames as she was, he could not tell what she held in her hands. At first what appeared to be a box was perhaps a funerary urn, or maybe merely an apple.
By J. Otis Haas7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
I feel sad about this, Keep Going.