Labor of the Heart

A labor of the heart

Is fickle for breaks time may yet impart;

Yet hearts all given up to labor

May find that flesh bears yet no flavor

Such that withered bones

Gilded on those rusted thrones

Reach evermore for other’s flames

To find the hearth within lies tamed.

No soul, within mortality leashed

Can ill afford to rush time’s feast.

Ours may yet be to wonder why,

But think too long and there you’ll lie.

Life’s purpose is the lurking feeling

That man must find his own life’s meaning.

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10 thoughts on “Labor of the Heart

  1. That’s very sweet and yes, eloquently stated with a hint of guidance. Nice, like many lines n especially the last about life’s meaning. Also like the not to rush life’s feast, very good.

  2. Some search their entire life for that meaning when it was right in front of them had they slowed down long enough to see it.

  3. “Life’s purpose is the lurking feeling
    That man must find his own life’s meaning.”

    No matter the age, we still ponder the meanings of life, what we’ve done, where we’ve been. Hopefully with little regret! Well penned!

  4. Finding the meaning of life……. What is it? I don’t know. Anyone who does is either anal, a control freak, or a liar. Because I don’t believe in any meaning or grand plan for our lives. And so our meaning seems to be finding meaning itself! I like the bit about withered bones gilded on rusted thrones….. sort of looking to the past to figure it all out. Very imaginative Chris…. “Rushing times feast” struck me too because that is how I view life, to each that is given to him, a circle of physicality, sociability, mortality, that we each are given and nurture through out our lives… we deal with what we have and soon we become the gilded bones on rusted thrones….. Really cool poem and I can tell you put a great deal of thought into this…… Very good read…..

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