MY HEAD ACHES
My head aches with the longing of you,
and the satisfaction that comes with knowing
you're there : like the most simple caterpillar,
on its way to something else, I am always
so conscious of transformations. People
move on; they go to different places and
are never heard from again. It's so easy
to change most all external things.
It's in the heart where the harder matter lies -
the kind you can't just break away or crumble.
The spirit is annealed, taught by fire to know
how to withstand. The blood is a spirit-matter
orgy - coursing through veins set in place but
so little known. We do not feel them at all.
A father can make a child pretty simply, by joining
sperm with a mother's womb - the glide of an egg
to a human form soon. But only a mother can make
blood. The child walks away with blood.
We do not feel that at all.