What of this heart

I know this character called brain

somewhere she illustrates her train

of thought

 

but, what of this heart, i hear

somehow unearthed in a tear

falling by the wayside

 

To be alive, a soul must weigh

itself in mind and grey

to the matter, unknown

 

In deed, you seek

to retain not the weak

love, but more

 

The space surrounds

breath, and masks hound

the truth

 

Fear, is not mind alone

but bosom shorn

of spine

 

Let me seek my heart

not in part

faith,

 

but

 

In inverted arrows

pointing elsewhere

to be announced