When the perceiving heart goes haywire

And the circuits are overloaded,

a devil lies behind every bush.

Around every corner, a monster.


Some might mistake

The flashes of light for fireworks-

a display

of colorful brilliance


Indeed, it is short-circuiting,

Snapping and popping

with imaginary grievances

and the unspoken, unspeakable.


A big ball of raw wires

Exposed and vulnerable

To water, to air, to fire.

To earth,


Each threatening to short

the heart out for good.

The buzzing and popping..

Visceral and bone-deep.


Ground me.

Ground me.

Ground you, self.

Ground yourself, self.


But the sentient heart, haywire,

Is drawn to lightening.

It is a lightening rod, in fact,

And will not stop reaching for the thunderclouds.