Most

The Heart asks Pleasure -- first --
And then -- Excuse from Pain --
And then -- those little Anodyness
That deaden suffering --

And then -- to go to sleep --
And then -- if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor
The privilege to die --

[eltanultam...]

(Emily Dickinson poem 1736)

*******

How to invent a heart
When from him she was created
There grows nothing but scars
from a fractured bone
in the image of snakes
all hearts stand alone
and are yet so closely linked
loneliness

Always ahead, always in front
This imbalance, this ever spinning wheel
It preccedes us
We march its trail
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Always ahead, always in front
One can drink another's cup of poison
but his lot non may win
one act play

And then, when the thread is cut
the maggots feast on the heart
with no discrimination of it being
empty or filled, lived or lied
Never too much
Never too little
Always enough
verse ends

(Star Of Ash - Crossing Over)

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