The Heart

Last night I couldn't help but dwell on my ex-wife and the pain I still feel over losing her. It was largely my fault and that regret poisons me to this day. It is a painful sensation, unable to breathe, my heart crushed by the inner pressures and pain. I miss her. I'll never feel complete again, this yawning hole within my core that will forever threaten to swallow me. I do not wish to fall into the abyss of eternal depression, but everyday I come one step closer to that final leap driven by a lack of faith. I wrote a poem last night to channel most of my suffering. It has eased some of my pain, but nothing shall ever completely remove it. I was measured by fate...and found wanting.



In dreams I crafted
A mold of my heart:
Deep and wide,
A symbol of my soul.
Yet it was empty,
A mouth choking on darkness.
I sought that with which to fill it,
A mortal urge to capture sun.
To my dreams I wished
To give form,
To give substance.
And I found you
While searching the bones of Earth.
You were silver with a shiver of night,
A chunk of lost day
Run through by veins of iron.
Who knew what dwelt
Within your core,
You illusion of fatal lead in Heaven’s raiment.

The heat of my obsession
Melted you into shining light
And you thawed into the waters of creation,
The darkness of your visage receding.
I poured you down from on high,
An arc of shining waterfall,
Seething radiance,
Liquid sun crowned by sparks of falling stars,
Filling my heart’s mold
And making it a pool of dawn
Belying future possibility.

But you have betrayed me.
Once molten passion,
My heart has cooled
Into hard steel.
Now my heart is a weight,
A reminder of the kernel of curse
Within each blessing.
With effort I hold up my heavy heart
And discover the imperfections wrought
By Life’s birth.
How readily the flaws become apparent
To eyes free of the glare of Creation.
Now each crack is a crevice
Within which my pain festers.

The darkness has hollowed out my heart
Leaving nothing but twilight.
As I look upon this failure
The reflection of my heart
Betrays the emptiness in my eyes.
And as I wonder what wrought
This abomination of idealism
I forget to think of tomorro
While holding tight to my idol
Of Fallen Man.