An Apology to My Mind and Heart

Oh mind, you are the restless weaver,

Spinning threads of others in your loom.

Each face a tapestry, each name a hymn,

Yet I, the errant master, have burdened you too soon.

I stretched your fibers thin with unrelenting care,

Forcing you to carry bonds that others wouldn’t bear.

Heart, you are the keeper of ancient tomes,

Each pulse a chapter, each beat a verse.

You hold them close, those fleeting whispers,

Even when they spill ink that stings and curses.

Forgive me for laying trust as kindling on your hearth,

Only to watch it burn and leave you charred.

Mind, you wander endlessly in labyrinths of thought,

Drawing maps to places they’ve already left.

I fed you mirages and called them home,

And now you ache, lost in the echoes of my theft.

Forgive my folly, for making you a prisoner

Of memories that should have been mere visitors.

Heart, you bled poems into their palms,

Offered gardens from soil I did not own.

They trampled your blooms and left you bare,

Yet you still whisper, “Perhaps they’ll care.”

Forgive me for letting the world carve scars

On the altar where only devotion should spar.

So now I kneel before you both,

Mind, my architect of dreams, and heart, my forge of fire.

Let my apology be the salve to your wounds,

Let my lessons be the shield to your ire.

For though the world may break what we dare,

Together, we’ll rebuild with wiser care.

©Bunguswa™