The perfect place

There’s a heart on the horizon

a large plump beating heart

its filling up the rivers

and flowing through the stars.


Every moment a passing day

every year a reaching rest

and here this heart it hovers high

as the heavens golden crest,

but lo, the land it seeks it not

quite happy to feast its gorge

the bitterness of a gluttony

a writhing fleshy horde,

the end a far off tale

or so we have all been told

to carry on without a thought

settled neatly within the fold.


But that heart it still awaits

pumping with its love

moaning with its compassion

and roaming among the clouds.

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