Where my heart used to be
You left a ruby where my heart used to be.
There’s a fire inside that stone.
Now the world is a busy dream
on the periphery of its hard lucidity.
Now its heat and glow
is the gauge of my every endeavor.
The myriad paths of my calculations
peter out into sunlit fields and green woods;
wires cross and sputter; mechanisms derail.
Cause and effect – hoisted on their own petard.
The balladeer is a drunkard and a romantic,
yet, when he stumbles and injures himself,
he remains thoroughly intoxicated,
his Dulcinea ever more pure and wieldy.
Just so, the fire in the stone
draws my prodigal heart –
for what would deter it?
In joy, I burn. In suffering, I burn.
O child of God, nurture the flame within.
This burning is the foot path to liberation.