The March of the Golden Heart

Heart in a ravel, heavy and broken. Confusion and burden searching for the reprieve of restoration. Darkness and distortion, a smoke filled battle. Eyes sunken, burning with desolation. Finding the source, reaching into the unknown. Hands of beauty, a faith restored. Belief in grace, the hope never truly lost. The rhythm of the heart, the pace of sincere living. From chaos to clarity, an escape from illusion. Listening within, to the messages of healing. A body worn, but a soul stirred and curious. The triumph foretold, the truth leaves one wordless. Wholeness of heart, the catalyst that kept the steps. A whisper to seek peace, a home to reside without soul shattering anguish. To step over the threshold, to enter an empty unburdened place. Courage and fearlessness, the tools of the peace trade. The depths contain the ground, the stillness and refrain. The march of the weary, full of scars to honor the dark hours. Fresh eyes clear and humble, a future where once seemed little hope of reaching. A golden heart, a hard earned beginning. An unwritten moment, potency unfolding. The work of the heart, a store of pain. The fuel for the glory, the grist mill for the grain.

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