The heart is a giant chamber
With a lot of fat on the surroundings.
Hiding nothing except pints of blood.
Pumping blood to every organ, cell, organelle
Or every spindle of fiber.
There is no soul there. It fills with
What keeps you oxygenated
And immuned. A space of little changes
And larger volumes.
And yet how mythical is it
When the heart skips a beat when your
Wife walks home through the open gate.
Knowing it is automatic, uncalculated
Spontaneous in execution.
There’s nothing remotely beautiful
Than heart electrifying heart
Valve opening valve, artery pumping artery.
And when two hearts are aligned,
By teleportation.
Mountains are moved
Across continents
Heart through heart.
