Words come easier when premeditated.
These are mine.
Though I know not what to say; to do; to think...
I know what I know.
I know my arms are empty
and the void begs to be filled.
My heart is tuned to
the frequency of yearning;
a state of misshapen healing, waiting
to become perfect again.
I'm looking for another heart that knows brokenness,
for brokenness yields humility and compassion.
And, if I could find that heart,
The one PERFECT match to mine...
I'd combine every particulate of my soul
'til the two are one;
the broken pieces are no more;
and all that remains is a single soul-
happy, healthy, and everlasting.
So my heart searches yet.
I'm listening for an answering palpitation...
Might I ever hear yours?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem