The duty of an organ (freeverse)

Those restless moments before sleep have a-blazed tonight 
And from four corners drew a room wherein 
A flicker of sense and 2 gallons of heated emotion 
Spilled into the most craving cavity.

To wake up, to disappear from illusion 
As if curse enlightened some inner truth of character; 
Certainly, a tender meat luring animals inching closer 
To better hear harmonies of sentiments pulsing.

I am not satisfied, now wanting, wherein wanton 
Becomes of me in forced flight,
And left as if altitude stranded what is most heavy,
Which by another name... 

Steady, rich, fertile; such are properties of
An earth where a predator searches, yearns 
To be scorched, scorned, adorned 
With the presence of those things that cause a pressure 
Forceful enough to advance onto living futures, 
Or the most alluring prey.

In violence, struck and crossed, etched a mark on wood, 
On paper a pool of ink, for that ancient story blessed a symbol;
Engraved a line between two sides maintained by 
Fragile power;
A tempo dances to new fear, hope, love, hate.

To deny them and yet to also give life all the same; 
It's that which truth and corruption,
Haunted and hunted, damn silently by name:
The heart.

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Literature, art, science, travel. Writing fiction, non-fiction, poetry. Always wrestling with language.

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