To burn my heart out for my love
Each day, each night, each dawn, each evening
To seek the treasures up above
And conquer all that is deceiving

To burn my heart out every day
And in the night it to replenish
Means catching forces as they play
And making them serve what I cherish.

Burn, my heart, burn: You're still alive
Embrace the essence of each minute
>From it eternity derive
And find all that's contained within it

Bring it to sunlight, make it bloom,
Twist past and future into present
Make it eternity consume
And let it blossom, iridescent.

In minute - tear it, mold it, burn
Fill it with incandescent passion
Make it scream shattered; make it yearn
For rapture - give it a concussion

That it would break and spill its core
And, broken, blend into forever -
My heart! Beat faster, I implore
And every minute do dissever:

Course time like lifeblood through my veins,
Wring truth from it and make it feed me
Flush out the rest - all that remains -
And make truth bleed - yes, make it bleed me -

Until I'm dry and, like dry wood,
I burn with passion of the minute
For all that's true, for all that's good,
And for love as my eyes have seen it.

Ilya Shambat.

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Please see the fantabulous article in OLE POETRY FOR 21st CENTURY
PRAGMATIC APPLICATION in which I rationalize in characteristic pure
banality how "good fences make good neighbors," the harsh, frosty,
bottomline has not exactly been demonstrated around the West Bank &
Gaza.

The following incongruent, profoundly shallow analysis is taken from
MORE RANCID EXPLANATIONS FOR THE POETRY-CHALLENGED by your semi-wit of
letters:


To burn my heart out for my love
Each day, each night, each dawn, each evening
To seek the treasures up above
And conquer all that is deceiving

<Suggestive of a love note>

To burn my heart out every day
And in the night it to replenish
Means catching forces as they play
And making them serve what I cherish

<reinforces profession of luv>

Burn, my heart, burn: You're still alive
Embrace the essence of each minute
>From it eternity derive
And find all that's contained within it

<Divorce papers served tomorrow..not>

Bring it to sunlight, make it bloom,
Twist past and future into present
Make it eternity consume
And let it blossom, iridescent

<A botanical metaphor or simile>

In minute - tear it, mold it, burn
Fill it with incandescent passion
Make it scream shattered; make it yearn
For rapture - give it a concussion

<Say it quickly & loudly with glassy flowers, not exactly copyrighted
by Florist Telegraph Delivery 1933>

That it would break and spill its core
And, broken, blend into forever -
My heart! Beat faster, I implore
And every minute do dissever:


<Dr. Michael DeBakey, please call your answeing service>

Course time like lifeblood through my veins,
Wring truth from it and make it feed me
Flush out the rest - all that remains -
And make truth bleed - yes, make it bleed me

<truth corpusles>

Until I'm dry and, like dry wood,
I burn with passion of the minute
For all that's true, for all that's good,
And for love as my eyes have seen

<won't smoke like wet wood>

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ilya_shambat2004@yahoo.com wrote:
> To burn my heart..

Acid reflux is a terrible thing.


J. Del Col

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