Jan 272014

Listen to your heart, it beats in threes.

Fast and bifurcated threes with the third beat silent.

Thump, thump / ____.

Thump, thump /____.

Thump, thump / ____.

What goes there, in that cardial void?


Is it the heart, in recovery,

collecting itself

for another surge,

a red tide?

No, that’s too metronomical, too melodramatical.


Maybe it’s a pause, reflection or

pulse taking time and life’s measure,

considering past and future,

flux and flow, before going on.

But that’s too philosophical, too episodical, periodical, rum-toddical.


What if it’s a person who goes there!

A missing person.

The evil twin,

abyss and altar ego who torments us,

sits inside us: deriding and judging us.

But that’s too metaphysical, hypercritical.


No, I think it’s our missing self,

the one who completes and compels us

toward the upside of our lonely sojourn,

the arc of hope and discovery,

where right now only a vacancy,

a void, a silence


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