Follow your heart

Marina Eugenie di Cervini (2024)

Marina E. di Cervini is a distinguished writer, documentary producer, speaker, lawyer, and coach, with a career spanning over three decades. Her work explores themes of love, identity, resilience, and humanity’s intricate connection to the world, blending timeless storytelling with universal truths. Her debut in the trilogy, FOLLOW YOUR HEART, introduces Françoise de Chambord, a heroine of remarkable depth and courage. Set against a rich tapestry of cultural and emotional landscapes, this luminous tale examines the delicate balance between personal desires and destiny, inviting readers into a journey of profound self-discovery. The journey continues in Marina’s second book, "MY WAY", and concludes with the powerful "THE PRESIDENT’S ADVISER", both of which deepen her exploration of resilience, leadership, and the enduring pursuit of purpose. Marina E. di Cervini’s storytelling is a celebration of the human spirit, offering readers a profound connection to life’s most essential truths.

INTUITION — A PROPHECY OR A POWER

“This morning, I wandered through the halls of the Hermitage. The paintings and sculptures seemed alive, whispering truths I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear. A thought clung to me: is intuition a blessing, or does it deceive us? I couldn’t let it rest…”

Is intuition a prophecy or a power,

That reason cloaks in the shadow of fear by night?

A sculptor, loud and angry,

Or a mocking, devilish, cunning spirit?

Perhaps the vision of distant horizons

Shields us from the pettiness of care?

This highest force of nature—

A coin with the double-headed eagle.

Boundless, with sorrows diminished,

To plunge through the depths and soar

Above the shooting stars that carry afar,

Mingling reason with feeling into one braid.

The kingdom of shadows bows its knees.

Veiled by fire, a mournful whistle,

Or the murmur of indecent persecution,

Or the creak of unsealed chains.

The power of intuition is corrupting,

Trying to justify doubt,

And in the whirl of lies, pleading and tearfully

Weaving balm for the soul.

Premonition, at times, lies buried

In the immeasurable riches of rumour,

Bloated, alluring with unease,

Iron shackles on the dreams.

Under the onslaught of heavy artillery,

The blind guard the blind with care.

Muted, shameful, and pitiful,

Day by day, we lose each moment.

Oh, if only that spark of revelation

Could join with calculated reason,

Flooding persecutions with calm wisdom

And transforming them into a crown of triumph!

To taste the game without praising the sinner,

To acknowledge the struggle without succumbing to it,

To know oneself and set a goal,

To believe in it wholly, without guile.