Lay low, my heart, for just awhile
And rest in sorrow's healing grip
For bitter pain brings bitter smile
To reanimate my frozen lip.
And I will cry my tears of brilliant jewel
And hold each one dear in my dear breast
To stoke the flames of winter's fuel
In which my cold heart may find some rest.
What a poet would not do for art!
When Hell and Heaven shine just as bright
For broken or burning, it is still a heart
Which reflects the beauty behind my sight.
It is not love, or lust, or loathe I feel
It is that burning pain which a wound can heal.
Heather Marie Mortimer
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/intermission-4/
