The Sense of The Heart.

I am out of words, ’cause words have failed me.

I am left with my five senses,

And those seem to fail me,

I am trusting only one, the sixth one,

The sense of the heart,

But no one understands it.


You have heard that pain demands to be felt,

Anyone who has felt pain knows this truth.

But pain isn’t necessarily a thing of the physical,

Not open flesh, or gashing wounds, or a health status that is critical.

No, pain has no boundaries, it defies logic,

It is everything you fear, with the power to be felt.

It defies logic.

So how ironic,

That it chooses its medium of expression wisely,

Using the heart as its medium of choice,

And the senses as its medium of necessity.

It covers all its bases,

Demanding to be felt by the mind, the heart, the flesh,

And then the heart again, cause that is where it is truly felt.

***   ***   ***  ***

The heart. A small organ. Muscle.

Capable of working for a lifetime.

But the heart of our soul is a different organ.

Delicate in its nature and hopelessly susceptible to pain,

It is the one thing we can and cannot trust all the same.

It has no guarantee of working for a lifetime,

But when it does, it operates on a wide ‘feel spectrum’.

The heart is like a muscle, an elastic muscle,

That stretches itself to unfathomable contortions.

It makes itself full with emotion,

Making you think like you can’t take any more,

And just when you can’t, it leaves space for more.

It shows us what words can’t explain,

Its only character that is exploited by pain.

And just like pain, it demands to be felt.

But trusting the heart is a risk,

Because the heart is a deceitful thing

When it is not understood.


I am still out of words, ’cause words have failed me.

I am forsaking my five senses,

‘Cause I know they will fail me,

I am trusting only one, the sixth one,

The sense of the heart.

Not because I can feel it, or because it is good,

But because it demands to be understood.

Tracy Eric Writes… about the heart.


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