In the twilight of the morning
before the razor woke itself,
I dreamed that all of us,
with no exception, were searching
only for the heart of heart,
that was still growing in our chests.
I'll call her Mary, and she possesses it,
this heart of heart. I only wonder now
if knowing one will be sufficient
to save and nurture fully what is known
only to me as my most valuable,
also sacred of possessions.
But does this entity protect itself
by placing armour skilfully around
its sphere of sheer humanity,
and godliness. No need to fret.
Now this one I love...The beginning is great...and the middle...and the ending. Good poem. Raynette
I try to write them when thinking of people like you. They make the world a better place simply because they have a heart, a soul and a real spirit. H
Such a beautiful poem Herbert. I don't know how you are able to come up with so many wonderful poems as you do. My inspiration hits so infrequently I'm lucky to write one poem a month. This is a great poem. Sincerely, Mary
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks..That's very nice of you to say. Keep in touch. Mary