Reblogs – Candice Louisa Daquin & Paul Vincent Cannon

When people, minds, spaces, or anything which fills us with richness collides with our humanity, a connection is made. It is a deep need called “what human stuff is made of.

Glass Heart by Candice Louisa Daquin

Do not think you are a burden 
the only burden that could ever be 
is to live this life without you
because if not for you 
the sky would stay grey and lifeless 
the winding road would appear straight 
a drink would be without thirst 
sleep would possess no dream 
no idle moment thinking of you, would exist 
no thought of holding us together, pressed tight 
night would not be a time to dance as one 
a day no day, worth waking for 
no word written if you were not the muse 
no book read with thought of future 
for you are the friend I always longed for 
as a child when nobody seemed around 
and emptiness sat, a shroud 
for you are the family I sought 
in loneliness and that terrible walk 
you know the one, you walked it too 
we have both suffered and the one constant 
is that no burden exists, when we are together 
so, when you next believe you are a burden 
think on this, remember these words 
see the sky when it is blue and emptied of clouds 
see my smile when I rush to your side through rain 
feel our souls touch the other, never in vain 
know that my heart beats because yours beats too 
people are not meant to live alone in their soul 
when in tangent, we are no longer separate; but fused 
like glassblowers who try to create 
in the meld of plunging metal and fire into water 
the finest unbreakable vase, to hold flowers that never die 
as long as you exist I want to try 
as long as there’s an us, there is a purpose higher 
where no amount of pain destroys 
the heart of glass where two reside 
where all the cruelties of the world appear 
somehow removed and not as sharp 
it is possible to be one; from two halves 
there is you, there is me, there is us 
and burdens are for the blind 
who see nothing worthwhile 
our glass stays shatterproof 
where love thrives in Winter 
and needs nothing more 
than the joy of your smile 
when we run, hand in hand 

Connection by Paul Vincent Cannon

Words formed my lips
to abstraction,
departing faintly,
hovering gently in the space
that is not me, not you,
something completely other
in the between space of
all there is, hoping, waiting,
to be taken, received
and known, not in the
hearing of mere sounds,
but in the deep of listening,
of knowing a knowing
that opens a connection. 

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