To cage one's own heart willingly...

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I hear a kind of sorrow in that idea, someone so attuned to others that they disappear from their own care. Here’s a poem around that feeling: There lives a soul who reads the ache In trembling smiles that others fake, Who hears the grief in laughter’s sound, And kneels where silent wounds are found. A keeper of unspoken fears, A witness soft to hidden tears, They gather storms from weary skies And hold them gently, asking, “Why?” How strange, how pitiful the art, To know each fracture of a heart, Yet turn no lantern to one’s own, And make of sorrow flesh and bone. For they will calm another’s sea, Whilst drowning where none care to see; Will stitch the wounds on stranger’s skin, Yet leave their own to ache within. They understand too much, perhaps, The grief between affection’s gaps, The trembling guilt, the sharpened shame, The quiet hurt with no true name. And so they bend, and so they stay, To light the dark in others’ way; Till kindness, noble though it seems, Consumes the keeper ...
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DOES THE NIGHTINGALE OWN ITS VOICE....

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Nightingale is the poet of animals.


 Maybe its voice is beautiful because of the sorrows. It has a beautiful voice because it sings the truth.
whoever hears it whether a heretic, a pagan or a Muslim whether a shepherd, a peasant, or a Sultan on a throne even if they are not aware, they feel that the nightingale sings the truth. its voice is beautiful.
whomever has a heart finds beauty in its voice.

The reason of this beauty is because it's sound of the truth.
Just like the nightingale, all the poets are the nightingales of friendship garden.

Once in a while, from a form like nightingale comes a sound chirping the truth to the east, to the west, to the north, to the south to speak the truth while silent then the voice turns to gold from silver.
When someone talks of the truth, the mind falls silent.

Each era has its own high status.
The word of God is manifested differently in every era. In some eras Philosophers, in other eras theologians became the tool.
Spoken disclosure was the fastest. It passes centuries. It becomes fables in the tongues & poems in the hearts. Does the nightingale own its voice?
-Taptukemre

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