The Heart's Wounded Realms

Curious poets draw open the heart's curtains, And reveal a strange, dark: yet profound presence there. It is half - formed and often cowers in fear and dread. It is the part of being that we tend not to acknowledge. It seems accustomed to hiding in the grey domain of shadows. For these cold, inner realms are rarely filled with love or warmth, Or significant flashes of pellucid, healing light. Perhaps, this marked lack, is why we worship beauty And try to mirror it with our paltry poetic works. The ancient Greeks believed via art, That we are able to transmogrify our suffering. It seems, we have forgotten this, in modern times, Perhaps, the heart's wounded realms are indeed, The wellspring of all notable creativity.