Poor heart

I’m rolling and rolling down to the sea

where everything is just as it seems

because I want to know, indeed I do,

the truth is the truth and not a lie.

Tired, I’m tired, of feeling the lie

with no proof to sustain the view

until years down the line, this life line,

when time decides the time is right.

Not yet is it time and mind back and forth

from heart’s decree to its own confines

that hold it tight and securely in

its very own point of view. 

Mind must be right, you know, you know,

because facts are now and forever the truth

and heart, poor heart, simply knocks at the door

locked and bolted. alarmed, monitored.

No matter, no matter, mind knows there’s an end

to that insignificant knock, knock, knock,

because heart, poor heart, too weak and frail

to cut off mind’s security system.

Heart, poor heart, but you know what they say;

“You’re only as poor as you think you are”!