“More tortuous than anything is the human heart,
beyond remedy; who can understand it?” Jeremiah 17:9
Our heart’s a curious vane, fixed
seemingly inside the chest. Yet
in other boundaries it does not dwell
In say a foot, or in a hand
– ‘cept for writing of its love.
Stop then, consider
it’s source-less perimeter.
Where was it born?
When does it rest?
Where will it end?
For after days of endless rain,
When heavy clouds stamp out
all hope – does it not leap
for joy at a patch of blue?
Then soars above it too with
the glowing of the sun?
And in those times of trouble, deep,
– turn itself – outside in
to wrap you there, within
its shell of feelings. Forever
Note: the quoted verse from Jeremiah has long enticed my mind; and
makes me wonder if melancholia is caused by troubles within the heart
instead of the mind.