A filigree of gold:
I have a heart ancient and old
it's core is of a rock larva...
Newly formed with a pumice soul
that absorbs its self
that absolves its self
till nothing of the whole remains...
It is as a liquid-salt, or a filigree of gold:
It is as a barren desert
It is thirstier than a cacti-flower
awaiting some other blissful dead-sun
that has no need of substance!
No need of reliance or earthly love
I have a heart ancient and old,
it's core is of a rock larva...
Searching-out the mountains top:
A mountains summit to unfold...
Endlessness it is rent with a mouth of love
unearthed but any-ways housed untold.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Added by Poetry Lover
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