Heart Poetry

She Said She Would Escape

She said she would escape. She escapes the constraints of human mind & body. She runs away to a land of innocent beings who speak the language of miracles. She swims away to a place where the moon kneels down to pick up the universe of limitless possibilities.

Possibilities that bring joy to the soul. Freedom that will care of her rebirth. She becomes a spirit that transcends space and time. A gypsy wandering in the wild dimensions of purity and holiness that soothes the ailments of the soul. The journey of life and rebirth unblemished by the infiltration of human desires. The preservation of past that secures the fruits of futuristic roots. She longs to surpass desires blended with the power of will.

She breaks the entrapments that cage thinking. She moves towards the seas to fathom their depths. Challenging heights by the strength of vision.

She lives like a star spreading its essence.

- Sophia Ojha Ensslin

the chorus of tomorrow

the chorus of tomorrow

launches its inevitable call

and the chords of my heart

soar to the sounds,


anxious of a transformation

unrecognizable, undeciphered in its 

range of colors

depth of meaning

resplendent in its being

        like a deceiving mirage

        it allures the bystanders

        and propels forth the ambitions 

        into an adventure of a lifetime.


Its face may be in the dark

but what it fortells

is anything but hidden

suspending all inhibitions.


go on to that plank

which dangles in mid-air

and lurch upon what lies ahead.

- Sophia Ojha Ensslin

Cages to Freedom/Freedom to Cages

We put them in cages to capture their beauty, so we may be inspired.
Freedom then becomes an illusion
Perched patiently, waiting trapped behind the glass.
Their souls sing songs, we don't pay attention to the melodies much to magnificent to catch
We fill it with artificial decorations some sort of replica of the real thing
Thinking they won't know the difference, all the while stripping their innocence away.
The more we think we are in control the less and less we truly know
We cannot contain spirits so free
When we try we become the locked up cages inside you and me!!!!!!!


"I strive to be a very humble and loving person. I love music and the way Jesus works through me to help others." - Kim Smith, Leicester, North Carolina

Sun and Moon

Today, the moon is quasi full in shape,
hangs tall in the sky,
waiting to be called the messenger of love, it smiles with stories that he hides behind his silver back.
I bring kisses and tears all wrapped in one, for tomorrow the sun will come out of hiding under the sea and say, “hey, moon, stop playing silly games, just make them smile.” But the sun doesn’t understand that for every smile he brings, I have to carry the tears. So I open my arms and shower the rain that will soon disappear into the ocean that the sun lives in.
Today, the moon, quasi full in shape,
smiles of new tomorrows that the sun brings in his path,
When lives lived in fury wander away into the jungles of darkness,
Tomorrow, the longings transform into determination of another sort.
I will be stronger, and the moon will be brighter,
But today the quasi-full moon, stands tall in the sky, but he may soon disappear into the screen of darkness, the sky so full of stars, speaking of myths and passions and victories, all those stories, tomorrow there may be no moon, the night without the moon, ‘amavaasya’, moonless skies, no moon to tie a string around and sail across the earth, anywhere you want to go, You can go with the moon by your side. But what happens when the moon says good bye?
You wait for the sun. Like the birds that rise before the sun, I wake to start the day, full of surprises, of goals and ambitions, of retrospection and immersion into self, the other, the whole. Where do we go? What do we do when there is no sun, and there is no moon? Ask the people way north of the earth. Where do our birds go? Every night? There is another quasi full moon staring at you holding your stories, your secrets, your mysteries, your desires, tell the moon to give them to the right person, or not give them at all. Then the moon suddenly hides. Why? Is it the time that he needs to study your files in hiding?? Or is he talking to the other moon way on the other side of the universe? Yes, what does the moon do on that night between two fortnights when there is no moon visible in the sky? Does he make love to his secret lover? Or just shies away from humanity? Why doesn’t the sun hide like the moon? Does the sun have no lover?
No god? No flower? No magic? Does the sun think that he alone is all magic? What is the story of the sun? Can you tell me the story of the sun and the moon?

- Sophia Ojha Ensslin

Stillness Brings You Infinite Love

Be Still. To negotiate the turbulent waters, be still. Let it all flow over you. Let it all tumble through you. Become the witness. See it happen and then see it dissolve. Tides upon tides flow and embrace you. Slowly grace surrounds you, envelopes you with infinite love. Love that is so glorious, you merge with it, losing sense of self, of time, of space. All becomes one. All is one and you glimpse that in a deep way. The Universe is a friendly place. It all happens for good. Thank you.

-Sophia Ojha Ensslin

The Treasure Box of Memories

Distant images of distant buildings
Encapsulate a part of me...distantly forgotten!

Cities are like boxes...
Inside of cities lay
        my thoughts,
        my dreams,
        my emotions,
        my drifting senses and ever-changing perspectives
        are all nestled inside this city box.

Deep Burgundy Wooden Box

These elements of who I am
smell something of sweet biscuits
rolled into chocolate;
sometimes they smell of bitter smog
black, choaky and unbearable;
sometimes they smell like the
pure, salty humid air.

My memories smell like the sweet juicy ripe yellow mangoes,
or seed watermelons with crows cawing in the background.
My memories smell of old, yellowed photos;
faded, grainy and unreachable.

These memories live in the box.
and when I close the box,
there is still a brilliant new
moment to live.
A glorious vision of the rising sun
over the mountains of butterflies still to

Today, the magic answers to my touch.
Today, the murmuring streams find their way
into the essence of who I am.
The treasure box stores my memories
So that I can go on living.

- Sophia Ojha Ensslin

The Voice

There is a voice
inside my head
that is not mine.

It says hurtful things. It says self-loathing things.
It doesn't let me be. It doesn't let me breathe.

This voice
makes me think lowly of me.
It compares me with others. It compares me with ideals.
It looks down upon me. And it makes me feel small.
It says I am not good enough. It says I am useless and a burden.

This voice inside
inside my head
is not mine.

I don' know when this voice was born.
Did it come from within me?
Did I borrow it from the world?
In any case, it lives inside my head
And I know this voice is not mine.

This voice
that makes me feel bad,
I am not angry at you. I am not upset with you.
It does make me sad thatI let you affect me
& that I gave you prime spot on my inner counsel.

I know that you - are not my voice.

For my own voice
is gentle and kind like a lamb;
playful and happy like a kitten.

My own voice
is wise and like a sage it imparts
guidance to me at all times.

My own voice
is patient and compassionate
and knows that I am
heaven's beloved flower.

My own voice
is encouraging and soft.
It uplifts me and others,
it finds the gift in all things
and forgives in a blink of an eye.

My own voice
holds me accountable
to my internal compass.
It feeds my true aspirations
and supports my big visions.

It does all that in the
sweetest way possible,
helping and nudging me
like a loving mother.

My own voice
recognizes my higher self.
It speaks to the spiritual aspects within me.
It fills me with hope and joy,
and helps me enjoy
the gift of life.

My own voice is
cheerful and creative.
It is smooth like the flowing stream.

My own voice is
benevolent and
it also resides within me.

So, today, I ask the other voice to
gracefully dissolve its presence.
I thank you for all that you have done
because you have enabled me
to recognize my own voice.
I bid you farewell, the voice who became my friend,
in spite of your criticisms.

I now turn to my own voice
and give it prime seat at my internal counsel.

- Sophia Ojha Ensslin. October 10th, 2013

Forgive Yourself

Forgive yourself.
You did no wrong.
Forgive yourself.

It is in forgiving ourselves, that we find true inner-peace.
We let go of those harsh judgments, the blazing words of criticism and the torturing feelings of guilt that suffocate our being.


It is when we forgive ourselves, that we find the beauty of what is.
The beauty of what was and what is to be.
We become at ease. Relaxed and at peace.


It is when we forgive ourselves, for all that we did, or didn't do, said or didn't say, thought or didn't think, felt or didn't feel, that we realize we are doing the best we can at any given moment. And that all that happens is in divine order. Because, that's how it is, that's how it was.

We accept ourselves, embrace ourselves. Like a loving mother embracing a baby, we give ourselves unconditional love. We are divine children, perfect, beautiful and lovable.


It is a powerful friend, practice it little by little. And soon you shall see that everything is perfect just the way it all is.

-Sophia Ojha Ensslin September 12th, 2013.

You're Enough by Cristof Ensslin

What we want and what we need
Mistaking a mansion for more than a shelter
When we guide ourselves by greed
Instead of love for life and the other

Darkness is the source of trust
Silence is the origin of calm
Space allows for understanding
When we love life and the other

Letting go of what we want
Lets us heal and flow
For broken as we all are
We're enough like the moon and its star

When we are and when we breathe
When we speak but not with words
When we listen not with our ears
We're enough like the moon and its star

-Cristof Ensslin. October 2nd, 2013.


Cristof Ensslin is the cellist and vocalist of the indie-folk rock band The Wilhelm Brothers based in Asheville, NC. Cristof loves to play the cello, to explore the beautiful mountains, and to spend time baking delicacies such as breads, cakes and other delights.  

The Moon

The moon. Big white circle in the sky better than any wo/man could draw. It looks down upon us with eyes of wonder, drawing us closer every night. The moon sheds gentle light on the mighty jaguar on the prowl. His eyes gleam in the nocturnal air of the jungle. It searches. Making gracious steps towards its unknowing prey. The moon watches along with sleepy trees and drowsy ponds. Only the moon is awake.

-Sophia Ojha Ensslin

Untitled by Asmita Barua

This place is not really my home,
I'm a homeless wanderer
a stranger in an unknown land.

I must leave one day
my soul will travel far away
what will I take with me?
Scent of my favorite jasmine flower,
my footsteps on a white sandy beach,
soothing sound of the ocean breeze,
a walk through the peaceful park,
on a moonlit night,
and memories that I left behind.

Dear Earth, how beautiful you are!
But one day, I must prepare
for the great journey into the unknown...

I'm simply a witnessing soul
and my soul will travel with me.

Breathing...oh what a joy!

Life oh so precious! a priceless gift
If time could only stand still....

- Asmita Barua, NY, NY

Speak Of That Which Inspires

Speak not of that

which hurts.

Speak of that

which inspires.

Speak not of the

struggles you endure.

Speak of the

bounty you find.

For every word

is your magic wand

and every thought

is your soul’s command.

Be humble of the life

you have,

grateful for the

breath you breathe.

Life is a gift at your hand.

Your being is the secret

that governs it all.

Gentle whispers and subtle nudges

are given to you as extra help.

All that you need on your path

is freely available to you.

So speak of that which inspires

and the angels will dance before you!

- Sophia Ojha Ensslin. September 6th, 2013.

Metaphor for Life by Selah Allmond

The river though soft and gentle, may turn around the bend and be as rough and wild as the open sea on a stormy day. A bud waiting to bloom into an amazing and intricate flower with the help of the summer sun. Life is like a river. They are never quite the same and quick to change. We are like a bud and the simplicity of joy is like the summer sun. With the help of joy and hope we will bloom. Leaves floating in the river of life bob up and down; they are like our emotions.

This is a simple metaphor for life. 

-Selah Allmond, Candler, North Carolina.