Hearts of Darkness

Deeper than the roots of understanding, in the most powerful recesses of the heart. The sharpest of edges, the most keen of angles, behind the doors of fury, inside the gates of anger, in the veins of revenge, and in the liquid that is the blood of man, flows a darkness, flows a hidden shadow, a slick and enduring force. In the garden of hate and beyond the valley of death, to the south of south of the waters of life, in what makes us men. It creeps along besides us and never lets us out of sight, in the wilderness of loneliness it thrives, patiently waiting for its voice to be beckoned, quietly harassing the coat tails of light, the darkness is alluring, it is attractive, it is temptation, it is the silk of all souls. In the beat of a heart it calls out to your weakness, calls to your strength, calls for your satisfaction, eluding your judging gaze, in the hearts of darkness are the heart pulse of men, the souls of women and the ever edgy presence of desire. In the heart of all darkness.