What world lies in the heart?
A verdant field of swaying grass that shines,
All flames and dull gold with eternal sunset,
Truth locked forever in it's tawdry chains of memory?
An endless forest, otherworldly,
Splashed in vibrant colors of future's pallet, to keep unseen the twisted limbs of forgotten promises that reach and rip the soul?
A river perhaps?
Rolling both directions in its cutting bed.
Upstream the roiling torrent of unknowable fate,
While down the stagnant beauty of certainty,
That meet before us in a sinuous whirlpool of experience and hope?
All these and none, a solid landscape,
Strobing in and out with beats of emotion;
It's reality assured by the falseness of its forms.
What world lies in the heart?
A wet, red world that drips with honest lies
And forms pools of fetid beauty
In which we gladly drown.
