who among you is capable of lifting
the heaviness from this heart?
even if you posses the strength
of a thousand men,
nay, ten thousand - -
there is no measure of muscle
nor force, that can deconstruct
the spectre that guards my core -
without fracturing it's delicate shell

let us walk a more cerebral path -
flanked on both sides by logic,
as though Socrates' reason held sway over affection,
perhaps with cunning intelligence this might
for a short spell confuse my purpose
but in due time,
with proper analysis
she who knows herself to be a fool
escapes that treacherous labyrinth

there is no sum, nor prayer,
to untangle these bemused ventricles
i breathe and drink and feed
within the secure confines of detachment- -
a slave to its constitution
beware - for once offended,
the delicate heart
is not so easily amended

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