The Stone Heart
This is the other side, the eternal space hidden...
A world without skin and flesh,
the perfect nightmare relents.
Before and after... and even now, since then does not exist...
Yesterday and today... as time ticks away,
dying in inanimate moments.
The air blows, a silent breath, of fragile bitter cold.
As dampened mist settles down upon,
the light extinguished mind.
The forgotten now, converted to, wooden creatures and solitary rocks...
Fragment reminders of life left behind,
recreating inert souls in time.
With delicate branch and sharpened leaves, cutting a beautiful silence...
Surviving in a desolate forest,
a metallic and withered tree.
Only the immortal shadows, unveil his fleeting movements...
The dance of silent silhouettes,
whisper his untold anxiety.
Here..
There is no fear,
there is not resentment,
there is not blame.
There is not fate,
there is not regret,
here there is no pain.
In a clearing of the forest, suspended like a dark sun...
Shining in his gray solitude,
there lies a silent stone heart.
The stone heart remains, in a lucid inert place...
It does not do... it does not live,
it does not feel... it does not believe.
Awaiting his final existence, last events of foolish, dark solitary life...
He doesn't know when it will happen,
but surely foresees that it will.
And with this it finally begins...
He does not resist, he does not escape,
he calmly awaits liberating self destruction.
The falling leaves suspend in mid flight, as time now stands so still.
The darkness now... illuminates, by an intensely blinding flash...
The fire scorched wind... burns and melts,
this existence he knows to ash.
The stone heart resists, fascinated... by this moment...
Melting his inside... burning his outside,
like the daylight... erased.
A violent and delirious explosion, splits the stone heart by half...
Liberating memories, illusions and dreams,
and all of his feelings to waste.
After everything was over, in this cold and inert place...
Only smoke, echoes and ash,
scattered ruins of despair remained.
However... at end, this story might send, what no one could see or know...
Of the beauties that lie, inside of dark mind,
and of what broken stone heart had obtained.
A beautiful red rose... so tenderly fragile, bleeds forth from fractured heart...
Imperceptibly delicate... dares to petrify nature,
now thrives where the heart had died.
The red rose unknown... from a seed not yet sown, blooms forth with heavenly rapture...
In the cold existence of this place,
this darkened other side.
She had been sleeping in a blissful place, struggling from the start...
Staying warm by sonorous heartbeat,
of this broken stone heart.
In a short time, frozen by cold wind, in deep silence of eternal night...
The absence of light, takes this wondrous sight,
red rose succumbs to the frost.
Her color, her petals, her sap, her fragrance, at end nobody saw or knew...
What happened to the heart, the broken stone heart,
was happening to me and you.
© Jason Palm
12/08/92
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