The Superlunary Heart


"The Superlunary Heart" 

in dreams
we meet
the you 
in me 
the you
I am.

upon awaking,
we remember -

although, it is 
fair to say, some forget,
what the message 
or intent was, in it all,
whom it was, where we were
when we met.

the mechanics
of facts,
when we are torn
apart, reveal 
what’s real 
inside;

flesh and blood
bone and guts
salt water
tactile organs 
that turn us on
allow us to play

to stop.
to start;

in this world, this life,
our rudimentary part, 
we are characters 
planned, in a 
pre-scripted story
all connected, 

like pieces that fit
each others’ sockets,
electric and energetic,
something else 
holds the pulse
has its hand on the switch.

This is what 
we are told 
to believe, and
for the most part,
wholeheartedly,
we believe in this.

we all have a 
heart, 

it’s physical
sets us apart,
pumping blood;
under stethoscope
you can hear it, 
drumming 
a tattoo march;

literally held in 
the hands of ...

a cardiologist,
for example, 
surgery sets 
those venerable
medicos distinct
from lesser mortals,

they’re revered
and feared, 
analogous
like God, 

they have the 
ability to open 
and close strange
portals, however, they 
are unable to perform
some miracles;

but -
when you take time 
to consider,
everything 
beats to its own 
rhythm, 

like a metronome 
marking each 
living second,
eventually
the mystery 
enters

the questioning mind,
it ponders the unknown
variant in the 
unsolved equation,
and one wonders,
what engine

turns ignition on 
for that other
unseen something.

does a superlunary
soul in its inner 
otherworldly 
interplanetary place 
of celestial existence,
like a ghost, or an

invisible occupant, 
that nebulous 
higher self, 
standing soulfully observing
behind its vessel’s 
vacant windows,

embody a heart?

And if there 
is a spectral
Chief in Command 
of all those other 
patrolling astrals – along
with us mere mortals, 

and that Leader
is the be all 
and end all 
the alpha and omega,
in one we trust, 
above all others -

who prescribed 
that over soul’s story?

whose hand is on 
that switch? 

what surgeon 
massages that soul’s heart?

The Super
Superlunary's
Heart

(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)












prescript.
noun: prescript; plural noun: prescripts; noun: pre-script; plural noun: pre-scripts
an ordinance, law, or command.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

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Young Avatar
November 26, 2022 at 10:11 PM
Just one little teeny tiny thing... I kinda think I made the world I'm in.
Young Avatar
December 5, 2022 at 11:59 AM
You inspire me to broader and deeper thoughts. Am I writing to find my way or make my way? And yes, your poem... it's like standing between two mirrors and seeing reflections to infinity.
Labyrinth Avatar
November 27, 2022 at 7:42 AM
When it comes down to it Stephen, isn’t that what all writers/poets are doing? They’re creating their own worlds, to escape, to question, to stretch boundaries, to create chaos, to create calm, to in a round-a-bout way, elucidate their reasons and purpose for existing at all, to find alternative solutions through novel endings and beginnings. Perhaps limericks are not just ditties for a good laugh, although a good laugh is wanted by most, perhaps even then, they are providing another world, for themselves, as much as for others to find some joy in, some escape in. For some it’s a game, for others it is not. For most, including those who think/believe they exist in the real world, and that they are ‘solid’, ‘grounded’, I call b/s on that, even they ‘create’ their own worlds in the living moment. We all walk around in our own heads, our own thoughts; empathy … is a trite word, but a good quality to possess. But this is not what this poem is about...but then again, perhaps it is.
Labyrinth Avatar
November 25, 2022 at 9:32 PM
"Spiral"/Yaima Music.
Labyrinth Avatar
November 25, 2022 at 9:32 PM
https://youtu.be/EZrsuircxjE
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