How Wide is My Heart?
by Fred LaMotte
How wide is my heart?
Each pulsing atom in this ancient
hologram of blood and muscle
threads its yearning to a distant star.
The thread is love, glistening like silk.
My body must be woven out of That.
Deeply in touch with
the crimson creature in my chest,
I contain galaxies.
They breathe through me,
and the earth grows green.
My pollen riots the meadows.
The healing song of the hive
is hidden in my ribs.
What warms the heart, I follow.
What expands, I go that way,
and I depart from what contracts me,
like an emerald worm without eyes
traveling surely, tender and slow,
down the vein of a fern.
It is better than philosophy.
It is carrying a candle
through the forest at night.
I may not see around the bend,
but each step is illumined.
Who is my Guru?
This throb beneath my sternum.
Don’t look for the mystical door.
Friend, You are the door.