Oh, Indiscrete Heart

Oh, indiscrete heart,

From where more flames do fall,

Trails whipping a wound

Through corporate and together masses

That had been collected.

Why, heart, you dare to display

Every indistinctive muttering

That throbs inside me.

Your stunning beauty

Remains in me, the pool of pain

Pressing up, bubbling;

How can I refuse to spout

The stream of rushing?

If only you would not scream so.

There is, in the shadows of doubt,

A glimmer that chooses

To flicker in the guidelines,

The rise of sunlit day,

A capella and without flight;

That caught heart wants

What it can to surrender

Towards the sun’s streams,

But violent scenes, tendril-gripped,

Tumble from the burn,

The threats that turn

The unbridled wheel.

This rotation takes me

By all the surprises; how

Can you, heart, reveal

So much with so little

A motion of encouragement

From the push

I can make or the presence

Of the Mystery, too?

Audacity cools,

In his eyes are the pools

We cannot let tears deny-

When there is nothing but spite,

We can lie to prove there is love-

If it were asked to reveal,

Chance himself would happen-

I wish that chance would come to pass,

Instead of being baffled

In the entire soul, to drip

Lonesome trails.

Mimic of knowledge: whether

This is water on my face,

Or something worse, fear

Or an ambient transient touch.

So shake the winter-drops

You cascade, and they

Shall burn through the

Impenetrable force that is

Love’s deep solemnity,

A cataclysm of you,

Oh, indiscrete teller.

Yes, this imprudence would be

The end of the trial fruition,

That microcosm dwelling

In my neat abode of soul-warmth;

No, soullessness, how

You deceive me,

With the chasm in empty gulps,

The air here humid and sticky,

Just ready to choke.

There, quiet contempt erupts

With a volcanic stir,

And subtlety hits the flickering flame

Like the flood that is to come,

In my place, the untouchable,

The detached heart floating

Inches from the telling fire.

The End

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