If not to, a Poet’s Heart

God

Why did you give me this great giant heart;

If not to love?

Why did you give me this poetic soul;

If not to feel?

I saw her like the crocus muse beckoning

I saw her like the siren on the rocks wishing to change

I saw her like the owl in the ancient redwood

I saw her like the lioness curling up after a long hunt

God I feel like you set fire to my underbrush to clear the forest floor

You set me I to eye with her canopy limbs echoing into love’s labyrinth

Like a ray of sunlight hope cascading through the leave’s snare

I saw her like Andromeda for my Perseus legs to wrap

I felt you God in her presence like no other

Like I was made a poet for her

To be rejected so abruptly absolute my statues of you are crumbling

The mountains in my hands of atoms nesting is dissipated to love’s faith

I have this poet’s heart and it is barely beating in seeing the muse of my years

Torrent through like a knife with a six inch cut through the middle of my soul

I am on fire in immolated effigy of the hazards of hope

Did I lose faith in you?  Did I fail in my discipline?  Is there any act culpable?

I see the others lining in my correspondence and I am sloshing of core

If I was not built for the crocus fair I am lost, so lost in this sea of identity

I write these hopes and dreams like a train seeing only calamity

Why did you give me this great giant heart, if not for love?

Why did you give this poet soul, if not to feel?

Anchors and fiends damnation in aspirations of love and feelings wilted into rot tombs

Carrion demons feast; there is nothing here