Weighted Thin

A Zeno Poem and Reflection

Photo by Mario Heller on Unsplash

Pinned above a puddle of light,
a heavy heart
hung to
spin
like a plumb bob
weighted
thin.
Cold raven walls
closing
in.

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I love the image of this rock, suspended.
Potent with mystery and metaphor.
For whatever it may mean
for you.

It’s a stage for thoughtful meditation.

• Why is it there?

• Who put it there?

• One rock. Many paths.

I chose the path inside my heart.
To see this, from the outside, as my heart.

I noticed it was cracked and pitted—
maybe it fell and broke open.
How many times?
Who put it back together?

Sometimes, I find
my heart is like that stone:
heavy, ossified,
hung by a thin line
in darkness,
walls closing in.

That darkness is my anxiety.
My past.
My future.
My uncertainty.

Darkness bearing isolation,
circling me off,
leaving me cold
with ruminating thoughts.

From above, a glowing light spills down.
Patiently.
Waiting for me to snap
my thin line.

The weight of my heavy heart—
falling, falling—
cracking into pieces,
so the puddle of light
can fill the broken places.

What is that light?

It may be many things.
Or one thing.
Or nothing.

But to me,
that light is love—
divine, unconditional, and kind.
From an unknown source,
but always present.

If only I would let go
of that thin line.
Break, more often
and receive the light
that waits
to enter.

“You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.”
— Rumi

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© Pixel Floyd 2025