A Call to the Heart
Walled around by defensiveness,
Buried under the rubble of time,
Enmeshed in psychological memories,
Lies a dry unrecognisable seed.
Carefully excavating and removing the seed,
We wash it in clear spring water.
We place it in the light for observation.
We play music to encourage its opening.
The nurtured seed grows and bursts open,
Sending out a shoot like a probe into the unknown.
Now the seed looks like a heart
And the shoot a conveyor of love.
A singing heart emerges,
Joyful because it is alive,
Responsive because it is full of life,
Loving because Love is the only reality.