To see with the heart

shake off your bonds
enter the shaman’s cave
where no modern convenience
illuminates the way
follow the dim glow
of candle’s flame
descend barefoot
into the bowels
where bushes
burn unconsumed
converse with spirits
who whisper
in the thought swirls
Escher built
Dali melted
Picasso reconstructed
until one becomes the pounding
of desperate magician
trying to burst out of chest
slip past curved bars
before oxygen runs low
only when panic
recedes into peace
of certain death
should you climb again
the stairs to where reason
hides chaos under a blanket
only then will you know
the matters of heart
that are the heart of matter

©2023 Kenneth W. Arthur