Ah, the heart. It is not only life but also our centre of being. It guides our thoughts and actions.
"“The heart is more treacherous than anything else and is desperate. Who can know it?"
This little poem felt both cozy and forlorn. You dug down into your heart and "huddled around muted limbs", having a...hehe...heart-to-heart with your heart. That was the cozy part. But it also felt forlorn because your heart was still small, still tiny, for you said "I guess not much has changed, has it?"
I like this piece, saartha. Even in writer's block you amaze me.
there is something bigger lurking in this little burst of inspiration.
kinda feels like this was hurled at the paper with all the force of a sledgehammer. not in a bad way, in a creative way. which is good, right?
this is how a lot of the things i write start out, so i feel i can relate a bit. raw ideas and collected words and/or phrases suddenly spilling out. i think this phenomonon is something only a true passion for the written word could make happen. desire to express.
anyway, i'm telling ya there is for sure something to these words.
LOL yeah writers block sucks I'm trying to break through it now but lets get back to your write... I thought it was a great sense of what you wanted to write but it seems that you forced it... Now I'm not trying to be mean but when I finished reading this piece I was reminded of when you're going to start a story and you draw the bubble and start writing ideas off of that... I think you could do a lot better if you just take your time and keep trying...