Brazen Heart
Of love there is no antidote nor cure,
A brazen heart knows nothing of the hand,
That guides this Cupid arrow fair and pure,
And pierces through with art that soul can stand.
Of choice the soul knows nothing to begin,
As seeds that scatter aimlessly on clay,
Some grow and flourish unbeknown to him,
That stalks the Earth oblivious and grey.
Confounded he, who is awakened so,
From anaesthetic binding dark as night,
When true love strikes and soul begins to glow,
He see’s a Universe that’s blazing bright.
And brazen heart is smelted down to flesh,
And nourished through with all of loves relish.
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