Just when I thought I’ve forgotten the scars I took in my flesh and my shadow from yesteryears, a clean start looks like it is about ready to be tainted. I’m afraid I’ve been so used to getting hurt, I’ve acquired an incurable addiction to heartache
The qualms that deter for it’s clearly presumed that remembrance is time’s gift whether we like it or not, gone does not mean forgotten
As my heart sings again, an echo of its previous songs remains in the background but should this be about what I try to hear again or what I audibly hear at the moment?
The world says you can’t love again unless your heart has completely healed but isn’t loving again the only way to heal a pained love?What if it’s the right person you prayed for, you don’t need to appear all new and sound that maybe only in these moments of living loving you do I get the complete healing I deserve?
Now I understand why I still felt broken no matter how I greatly took care of myself. Like a true love’s kiss made to break a curse, maybe you’re the exact antidote to treat my heart, the healer that Love wanted me to wait for…[hopefully]
-art and words by Nicola An
I always love taught by the ocean
However,I question the longevity
For this isn’t as deep as the
current that helped me propel when
life at its worst fell
As my heart then learns what
choice to keep
” to sink or to float?”
He may be as fancy as a brand
new glistening boat
Such sight in thought reminds me
of the BALMY breeze and WARMTH
I’ve been feeding my own depth
selfishly to drown for another
This, a point of resolve to stay
on the surface, my body in
Floating and fairly breathing
Because now I’d rather look
at LOVE in the most precious
grinning SUN up above –
art & poem by Nicola An
My second book entitled “Soul Song” will be available soon. Thank you for the gift of Divine Love
It is a quietly disturbing dilemma; there is a sudden point when you shun your routine or habit though it’s been your shoulder to lean on.I still haven’t claimed being a “writer” despite writing on a regular basis.
Sometimes they look up because you are a “mountain of difficult words and aesthetic language”, sometimes they degrade ’cause you are a “wretched soul with a head full of old-fashioned mush”,worse when their game is making judgments such as you’re acting as if you’re better than anyone,and you’re just trying to be a worldwide preacher.It is good to be listened to,a human pleasure.But to be a “writer” is to be just a singer because you can sing a song, a painter ’cause you can run the brush across the canvas.It’s a risk to write down and when one writes it’s not a mastery of words.In my case,never been outspoken and there are things that take sitting down for a period of time until you’re making sense so you take down the notes from your own contemplation, and I’ve come to be aware that maybe #socialmedia has been dominating, we’re too stolen by the wanting of immediate exposure. Lately,I’ve been doubting if I’m writing for myself still while discussing the eruption of happenings keeping me hungry for answers, or for people who identify me as the “writer”,you know the substance of something loses when it becomes an object to attract attention. Oh God,don’t know where I walk here,just wanna say I am afraid my journey is beginning to get shallow when what I do is falling into the ego’s childish interest.I am uncomfortable thinking that it will be just the words and flowery construction readers will be after,then I guess it is just the pressure from expectations and anxiety about what they make out of who you are by what you tell. Yet I rely also on the idea that there are people out somewhere who need solutions and lessons, those who seek the same clarity and awakening…
*Sighs* I think I am torn between wishing to reach out and wanting to rest away from the distorted verdict of the world.
Sometimes I look at books the way I look at people, some titles conjure a sunny memory, some covers attract a piece in my soul, some written summaries pierce my core. Too many, too confusing, full of drama and yet I know every story is a good read for a book won’t be published if it’s not meant to tell the world a journey.
So you, yes you, you were made to be in this shelf, this beautiful circular shelf you are free to breathe and fall for such an endless period of gravity. It does not matter if you aren’t placed on the top or right where you can be easily spotted.
You are here to tell a story, soon someone will grab you and you will make them laugh and cry and they will wish your pages will not reach the end like they will never want to lose you-this is how you will be loved eternally.
“a testimony made through poetry and prose that tells a young journey of an old soul conveying love as the utmost life of the universe; this book is ours”
Link to purchase: Shelf
Preview of the book: BOOK TRAILER
While I’m working on my final requirement to publish in paperback, I also make my first poetry book available in kindle . To those who wish to have a company in times of self-discovery, fighting for their dreams, having a hard time loving and even in times when they are the hopefully hopeless romantic type, I am one with you all. I bleed words for you. The universe is always with you whatever that journey you’re leading on your own!
Much love and gratitude,