A Filigree Of Gold:

I have a heart ancient and old its core is of a rock larva Newly formed with a pumice soul that absorbs its self that absolves its self till nothing of the whole remains It is as a liquid-salt or a filigree of gold: It is a barren desert It is thirstier than a cactus-flower awaiting some other blissful dead-sun that has no need, of substance No need for reliance or earthly love I have a heart ancient and old, its core is of a rock larva Searching-out the mountain top: A mountain's summit to unfold Endlessness it is rented with a mouth of love unearthed but anyways housed untold.