What lives on your heart, wounds your soul.
What lives on your heart, can turn to gold.
Sensitive touches from the unknown.
Be careful, many lose their way, making mines they see as courageous play.
I have valleys I need to attend too. I have homes I want to adorn.
I will not return to the battlefield.
I will not look for you.
I will pray.
Battlefields become palaces.
My heart has changed.
Enfolded on itself, once again.
Belief dies slow.
Soon, only the heart knows.
Photography by Daniela Florez