I Read for the Heart
The Instrument Matters Less Than Truth.
I Read for the Heart
The Instrument Matters Less Than Truth.
Ink has never been the compass
that led me to your page.
Meaning offered its summons,
and I answered all the same.
One sentence named my isolation.
Another steadied all my fears.
A single line became a hand
that made my vision clear.
Every writer seeks passage
through words, form and phrase.
The reader doesn’t question
how they found their place.
A notebook waits upon a desk.
A keyboard keeps a steady light.
Every honest instrument
can lead someone through the night.
What endures is not procedure.
It isn’t craft alone.
Somewhere between your words and mine,
a shared perception grows.
Storms may educate the traveler.
Rivers discipline the stone.
Every heart interprets truth
by pathways of its own.
Gather every faithful method
that gives the hidden bell a voice.
Love has never judged art
by the instrument of choice.
Paint never moved me through its brush.
The landscape always could.
Stories cultivate hope in me.
Poems always understood.
So write with every instrument
that brings the unseen into view.
The chosen path belongs to you.
No method can diminish
the meaning moving through.
© 2026 Monica A. Leyva. All rights reserved.
Gorgeous. Such a beautiful expression of truth.
I love how this strips away all the debate over the medium and focuses purely on that quiet moment when a line reaches across to make someone feel understood ✨