An Anatomical Exercise on the Motion of the Heart and Blood in Living Beings
or how we thought of it…,
the one and only true carcass of inspiration,
we - the uninitiated,
by the vast knowledge of infinite space,
monsters of time…,
William Harvey thought…,
a thought and nothing else,
just like a wind on a barley field,
he scrubbed the mystical,
the silk thread of light,
the momentary speck of God,
a creature so true,
so true and violently indulgent,
like a sand moving in the desert,
dunes so eloquently dancing,
the innocuous touch of gold,
stream of that someone’s son,
we stretched the form,
and it sang the universal tune,
notes written by some creator…,
lost between time and space,
barely breathing…,
a sleeping giant,
come to wake the world,
and all it desired,
was to meet it’s maker,
a prison of mirrors,
far away land,
the Self and I…,
he thought,
soon the birds and the beasts,
beautiful sense of losing,
amped by the notion of good will…,
towards the unimaginable,
beyond the norm…,
there he could mold and be molded,
we was he and always will be,
purest of snow…,
white is the hand that feeds,
broken heirloom of a broken heir,
there I will build my kingdom…,
of kindness and sorrow lost,
there I will be the forever more…,
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