Locus Religions Poem by Mark Heathcote

Godlike insects…
Dance perspiring in leaded mirrored windows
Shaking, pollen crowns off their heads.
Dove white petals fall: windblown…
Like snow into a locus… christened darkness.
Now, which heart-shaped falling leaf?
Which single petal - do I follow now?

Which flower bleeds second best in my vision?
Which flower can withstand…
The changing winds of our endless wisdom.
Better to be a weed flower in the streets
Then crush mountains with barren seed.
Climbing judgmental
Only to feed destruction.