My heart is a mad thing
A wild, racing mad thing
Touched by suns, a hundred abandoned suns,
Roiling, a caldron from hell,
Fueled by a heat no man can hold.
My heart is a mad thing
A thousand horses mad thing.
Queen Anne’s Lace trampled in its wake.
Flaring nostrils, wild eyes, driven by an Image
Of the passion that lies within.
My heart is a mad thing
A million scented mad thing.
Honey and cinnamon, skin and nectar.
Overwhelmed and overjoyed,
Drowning in a riot of aromas.
My heart is a mad thing
An eternity filled with mad things
Forgotten and unknown
Hidden there, just beneath the bone
This is how it was, how it all began.
How it should end, how I want it all to end.
My hand in yours, my lips on your skin.
And my heart on your soul
A mad thing, a wild racing mad thing.
–by David E. Booker
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