The Truth Prevails

To run in the heartland of dreams... Nosheen Irfan I read your spring poem with delight and anticipated the wisdom following after. But it was foolishness that clouded my mind despite your sweet rhymes and luscious images. I was about to blurt out the offending question - Where is this heartland of dreams? - as if I were inquiring about a vacation site. I saw you lower your head in silence, and when you raised it a moment later your eyes held the tenderness of deer eyes and their dark pools were shining with tears. Oh, how could I have been so obtuse? Your poem was one of resignation, not of possibilities. It was meant to calm our desires for impossible dreams. And yet I blundered with those very dreams into the luminous space of your poem, almost spoiling the quiet truth you conveyed. I was not ready for your poem. I blindly read it, saw only what I wanted to see, unaware of your gift of clear thinking. But you trusted your poem and had faith in me, and today I re-read your words, and their wisdom bloomed inside of me. It is light and airy, carrying it is no burden, because it has dispelled yesterday's mistakes which made things misunderstood so heavy. And now I know the heartland is not a place: it is Interior Self ever in need of refining to be true to itself, and the running is your metaphor for achieving understanding of the heart before the false dreams smother its quiet wisdom.