"Theft of the Heart"
An unfortunate experience of having our Cameiseta (VW Van) cleaned out one night whilst staying in Toluca, Mexico, and the days to follow, dealing with the police. Words sprang forth rather easily after that.
Theft of the Heart
With a mother's fetal fear for the child who labors forth do we cling to our belongings, item by item, the chosen and cherished things that go into defining our world and taste of life, which if so leaves us dangerously perched upon the shifting sands of fate, or whims of uncaring souls in search of easy prey, and pray we do for solitude and safety, anonymity and luck
The thread to the heart in our lives tears like an umbilical chord, our bleeding tears of grief over possessions lost to a thief, are possessive dreams lost to illusion, defining our days as squandering this humble message
How strange it is the worth we place on simple things we value unlike those things who's price we paid but found along the way, perfect little shells left along a shore, worn tortilla baskets that colored our humble table, or blanket to warm our bed, small memories to a larger life we shared
Gone now with the faceless ones thus plucked clean on a city street in a foreign town and another world where pity is a luxury unknown on a voyage where anonymous fates await, and restless spirits see clearer the value of plundered goods that pale to tempered love, and matters of the heart Grant Handgis Copyright 1997-2011