Sometimes little or no reason
Do I need igniting fires
And unleashing them on you
And You
And really any stranger
Whose karma crosses paths
with mine
In need of burning.
And it's the pain of thinking
Way too much
Of aging and of dying
And all the things Absurd
And frightening alone.
A subject much too vast
Which too much space is taking
Inhabiting my heart.
My poor heart.
This tenant of my body
And house to all my feelings
Has not a single Thought.
It lives. And lives. And soars
And then One day
Exists no more.
It beats no longer in my
body
But in the vastness of the
sky
Celestially preoccupied.
No more it beats
Or is contained,
constricted, soft or tender
Or hardened by my slow
unfolding burdens
of the past.
It makes you think, you know.
But now I'd rather feel,
Not missing any beat.
Go on, my heart.
You steal the show.
