Take it away

Take it away,
and what remains is the heart.
Take that away —
no, you cannot take that away.
The golden heart stays, open.
It can only be hidden, out of sight.

A tragedy. A sadness. A heartbreak.
And it beats, in invisible rhythm.
You cannot take it away.
Even you cannot take it away.
When you hide it — benevolent —
there is only truth.

The heart always speaks.
Soft and eindeutig truth.
It.
You. All of you. Tendrils of us.
The truth of the belly.
Speaks through an open mouth.

There is more and more light,
there is always light.
The sewn-together lips sing.
The throat opens,
and tells a truth —
of your indivisible, granular divine.

Heartbeat in each part of your voice.
Heartbeat in your fingertips.
In the touch, the interplay of fingers,
of two, as one.
The heartbeat births to die,
there is a contraction, just to open further.

There is direct tasting.
There is a willingness to play,
a receiving of lost arts.
Simple arts,
of staying, coping, loving,
a lost art of being a grown-up child.

A weave of teaching,
of being taught,
of hierarchies never told.
Of handholds.
A continuum of you and me,
a lost art of listening.

There is more,
there is enough in more.
There is love.
There is play, and there is love.
There is doing, and there is love.
There is to stay, and every little bit is loved.

You are safe.
Restful as you open.
The more there is, there is no cost.
There is the heart,
a golden heart you cultivated,
in your skin, throughout all those perceived years.

You can be joyful.
It is allowed.
The freedom in the meadow of all those years.
The freedom to feel.
The freedom to laugh, to see.
To touch, to love, eternally loved.

The joy of the perfect movement
from the right breath,
that does not propel you forward,
nor does it hold you back.
The joy of meeting,
right frequencies breeding.

And inference of life.
An interference: perceiving plays, playing perceives.
A separation, to shed, to the one.
Seated in the perfect move,
joining in the perfect series of small motives,
events that are close heartbeats of the same rhythm.

Youth and light happiness. Leichtes Licht.
Life force arises, Eros moves.
Life undenied,
the wish comes,
ur-alte lust,
of the relentless, peaceful kind.

Acceptance and gratitude in you.
Nature lives in you.
Dark clouds live in you.
Sunshine lives in you.
Brooks, waters, rivers.
Heavenly bodies.

Rain, inflow, downpour,
then lift-up, a spine,
Eros running through —
granular, lucky —
as jesters do.
And teach.