The heart wields like a sword,
From left to right it wings,
How it crusades into stone,
Only to be lured by desires into sin.
The heart is like that thundering cloud,
Aching with the need to let out,
Onto the earth and create mayhem,
Instead ends up breathing life into barren.
The heart is like that floret in spring,
Ready to blossom and caress your skin,
Till the day it withers covered by silt,
Blooms bright till it falls into ruin.
Spurts or hisses with each rumble,
All that inferno seeking the ocean,
To unearth tranquility whirling in surrender.
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