John Charley
. everything
small
in this heart, is a small world,
in its space is a small hut. so small;
world smallest, than every world;
in its hut you'll never hear inside,
children crying, embarrassingly in it,
like a father is dead; just for a thing
things like toys. nothing buys nothing away
of this place in trinkets, or mind new in ears
to hear as understanding believes,that
only what always, is through on its sieve.
what tears cry when father's lost.
what cleaves, out from understanding
than beauty of own beauty;
world in a heart, small hut of a pride,
in time, everything wonders; that seats
and silently feels, all of its healing. it is
in everything part and small of place,
everything attracts of what it makes,
refracts away, like rivers, everyone,
everything sold to other dreams ideal.
in this heart, is a small world,
in its space is a small hut, so small;
