In the twilight of the morning
before the razor woke itself,
I dreamed that all of us,
with no exception, were searching
only for the heart of heart,
that was still growing in our chests.
I'll call her Mary, and she possesses it,
this heart of heart. I only wonder now
if knowing one will be sufficient
to save and nurture fully what is known
only to me as my most valuable,
also sacred of possessions.
But does this entity protect itself
by placing armour skilfully around
its sphere of sheer humanity,
and godliness. No need to fret.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-need-to-fret/
