A clear lake If the heart were clear
If the heart were transparent If the heart were pure
With only the purest things:
A mote of dust A blind boy’s fingers
Freedom
The impression on a pillow made by the head
A telephone ring
A clear lake where pebbles lean on one another
Where I see trees, my face, my face as a child
If the heart were transparent If the
Heart were clear I would hold it
Like a compass and say
This is the path I will take
This is where my true desires live
A clear lake But the heart of the
Woman feeling all this
Is not clear as the lake
Is not transparent Cannot lean on
Her desires as pebbles at rest lean on one another
Does not manage the integrity
For which the heart is made
Does not rearrange itself and become simple
It is not that the heart does not try for integrity
But trying with opposing missions
Is absence of order
If the heart were pure If the heart were transparent
It could resemble a baby’s eyes
But how might that now be possible
With ghosts of the past
Hiding the gaze like a wall so plastered
With advertisements for old events
If it could only be an impression
On the pillow by the head
Only a telephone ring
But the heart of this woman
Is tied in a knot of missions
Eating at itself to get undone
Desires chewing on desires
True…if only it had the innocence it once had, we could easily rely on it. But it’s contaminated too. Beautiful expression. Lovely thought. ✌👍👍:-)
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Thanks Sundaram, for investing time in dissecting this. 🙂
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