Heart

i wish I could find the heart of the universe
not the center of it but it's hidden heart
a loving one, if it has one
if it does, it's not visible

like an ant that forages far down below
oblivious to me,
my observance of its moves
going about the shadows,
in dark and light
oblivious to my presence
high above
i am invisible to its goings on,
does it consider the heart?
does it love and care as i do?
does it ask whether there is one?
does it know it's being observed
as i am?
does it see evidence?

i wish i could feel the heart of the universe
i know because i have one
it fills with love, it fills with hate
it overflows with all emotions known common to the spectrum wide of every human beating heart and pulsing mind of every conscience living one

i see war
i see hate
i see love
i see movements in my search and ponder
i look and search for the heart of the universe

they tell us of dark matter, our science minds, so they say,
i know something is out there
i can hear it in every way
i hear it speak in silence when i quiet my mind

there is no end to my grief
i cannot quantify it for it there is no relief
its tragic bite, my boredom extreme,
it adds further meaning to nothing new,
King Soloman's: there's nothing new under the sun
it's sundry bland in work to feed a fevered brow,
bread by the sweat of your brow
a lash of whip by the hand of fellow man's deceit

as i look up to see a bird fall from the sky
taken in by death of age,
i see a man deeply dive
into the depths of a cold arctic sea and no one knows

i was hungry, though i eat, my hunger stays,
my thirsty soul cringes in its dried estate,
sees nothing new for tomorrow,
but the same as yesterday,
though there be new inventions, new ideas, knowledge increases,
mankind's humanity remains the same,
i see war
i see hate
i see love

there is no evolution of man,
ever changing,
reaching a higher plane, reformed perfection like a utopian perfect humanity,
it will not happen

God forbid, another attempt at a thousand year, 3rd year, so called reich, aryan race
or a stalin perfect man,
or a so called man of peace, one world leader who is to come

i see,
every one, though free in some form of state,
though free in society in some ways
i see us all on death's row waiting for the end of this,
the final end of last breath

though at times i feel the beating heart,
the touch impress upon my, what's called a soul
i feel the hope, the glory light,
the heart of the universe
His caring Hand
the tragic state of things descend
upon the curtain of my gaze into the inner eye
i wonder morbid is my pain
when i in contemplation let hope wane
consider all the many ways
we, mankind easy go astray
forgetting like the ant that's blind
the way the universe is laid