The Two Hearts
I have two hearts. One lives inside the cage of ribs, and the other loves to be a wanderer; without a name, without a home. Only to travel beyond and seek…
One sees and tells me its stories. And the other behaves like a wise soul. It introspects, contemplates, and sends me echoes from infinity.
I can’t decide which one belongs to me more, which one is closer to me, which one is true, and which one is made of the illusions I am carrying within. Or should I call them the truths I am hiding beneath my skin?
The Childlike Heart
One of them speaks to me like a child. It keeps conversing with me about anything and everything it comes across. The love, the betrayal, the heartbreak, the smell of budding love, the friendship, the sense of belongingness that gives birth to a new relationship between Mother Earth and this lonely soul. It complains about life and stops talking to me when I pretend to be busy with the other one. It never ages, or maybe, it’s afraid of growing old as years pass by, and I am happy with this childish heart in me, for I too, don’t want to be called old.
I love playing, sharing jokes, and enjoying life’s beauty, joy, and happy moments with my child heart. We cry together, we laugh together. We fall together, we rise together. We walk together, we sleep together. We sing together, we dance together.
Sometimes we talk about ourselves and celebrate the miracles of life we have seen. We talk about dreams and the magic of dreaming. We talk about the people we meet and how we see strangers becoming friends. We talk about the stories we have told to the ever-celebrating world, the stories we have written with the most vibrant hues of happiness and the stories we have woven with the shimmering touch of magic. Sometimes, we watch the rising Sun and feel the surreal beauty of the early morning; the crimson sky, its reflection on the river, the birds’ song, the cold breeze, and the ethereal calmness around us. This heart teaches me compassion. It shows me how a seed can grow into a tree that gives shelter to the tired soul. It tells me how to nurture the sapling in me to become the tree that is home to many. Being an epitome of grace, it knows how to cultivate the seed of empathy and kindness. It evokes the Goddess of Compassion in me to transform a girl into a woman holding the lamp of love.
The Wise Heart
But my other heart has grown very old, and it’s more like the messenger of the universe. It gives me the reason for my being and reveals the secrets of my becoming. It doesn’t feel overwhelmed with the surreal beauty of the dawn and the chirping of the birds outside my window, because it’s wise and reflects the Sun to my heart, calling me to awake from sleep and embark on a new journey. It shows me the splendid daybreak and surprises me with the magical cosmic show that happens when the changing colors of the sky wrap me with the divine aura. It whispers into my ears the song of silence. It calls me to go beyond the seventh mountain and find a lonely cave to sit and meditate. It is like the breath of my soul that chants the name of the Divine and makes me restless to renounce the material world and begin the sacred quest.
It stops me from becoming a part of the everyday hustle, rather, it insists me to find the purpose behind being born with two hearts. It relentlessly reminds me of the stories I have to tell to the shattered world, stories I have to write with my scattered wisdom, and stories I have to weave by intertwining the myriad of hues I see in mankind.
I can’t call this heart my friend for it acts like my mentor. When I find no light to guide me during the dark days, this heart shines through to show me the path to my destination.
I share a special bond with this heart, as I forget it in broad daylight. When I am happy, I am dreaming, I am dancing with the rhythm of life, I hardly remember that I have my other heart which loves to be hidden in oblivion and appears in front of me when I am lost in the mist. I only remember it when I feel I am left behind, I feel abandoned, I feel disavowed. It comes to me when I can’t celebrate life with sounds, words, and songs, but I want to make this birth purposeful, cultivate a sense of detachment from all desires, and hear the deepest of silence. It comes to me when I need a mirror to look within.
Two Hearts
One sings me the lullaby when I am in pain, and the other shows me the path of devotion with my musical offerings. One heals my scars with its art and poetry, and the other, waters the blooms of wisdom that grow in the garden where there lived the remnants of loss and grief.
Two Hearts
One gives me moments when I celebrate my aliveness, and the other keeps me alive. One brings me tomorrow, and the other takes me to my Ikigai. One makes me a dreamer, and the other awakens the cocooned butterfly.
Two hearts
One belongs to this homebody, and the other belongs to somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
And I see an old wise saint and a little boy sitting together. Eyes closed, folded hands. Meditating. Their faces glowed with the smile of bliss.
Facebook Comments