The Heart
---
In the days of his youth,
When he is still blinded to the truth,
In his quest for passion and joy,
A man's heart is like an unused harp,
Still to be played for others to enjoy.
With the slow passing of time,
As he enters the era of his prime,
Aching for a touch to stroke its strings,
His eyes are still with his heart,
Ignorant of the pain that love brings.
Until his harp is finally stroked,
And its brittle strings are finally rocked,
By the coy, the gentle and the strong,
He will learn the danger of being touched,
When one string makes everything go wrong.
To educate a seeking heart,
Which is devoid of art,
One has to walk a while,
Where beauty is a thing well known,
Learning when to put on a smile.
~Oley Maruma
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