In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: “Is it good friend?”
“It is bitter—bitter,” he answered;
“But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart.”
*
Poem: The Black Riders and Other Lines, by Stephen Crane (1895)
Painting: Mitchell Nolte, Black Light Incantations
Every heart has a bitter taste. Even the nicest and holiest souls hold a bitter heart in one form or another.
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