It didn’t fill all the hollows, the spacesof the heart aren’t simply measured, but
the hunger and thirst of other places
were heightened and deepened by it, so what
if the heart was filled? The empty knots
remained still, lurked subtle between faces
of complexities, in flattened foils of thoughts,
in tangled dreams and strange wakefulnesses.
It didn’t fill everything, nor quite made
the earth and heaven spin, it just lit
a tiny flame that trembled at the shouts
of many bearded blizzards, of grave trade
winds, at their forbidding, sharp-tongued wit;
and cowered small, but refused to be put out.
Read the first thought here.