Metaphysics of Creation: There is an Iron Bridge in the Air

 where is the heart's heat when the wind arrives from the icy poles of the earth? I've been asking every day for a year, while reading the most tropical book of poetry: the spiritual pages of Kamasutra interspersed with Kierkegaard's whisperings on faithlessness

where is the heart's faith when the atmosphere extinguishes the power of flames within? I've been asking every day for a year... this winter has been freezing for much longer than a year. Winter is the mood of the world in the age of closed breasts. 

before the morning, under my diaphragm, this muscle that dances while breathing, vast insomnia has been wandering without any compass. where are you heading?

between Youthful imagination and Southern longing, there is a bridge in the air. I invent the Desire of the Primordial while storms are expected