Fissures
A Poem
By: Jim T. Gammill
From the womb it grew; born from the heat of the most primal of flames.
Ignited by passion and lust and the greed of self-preservation it emerged as something molten and true.
As the flames cooled, the perception of form transformed from abstract to defined.
From defined to solid reality.
Like the core of the Earth, whose molten innards shift and change,
the thing also shifted and the thing also changed
If their molten heat were to cool, both objects would turn as hard as stone
The stone is hard, seemingly impenetrable, and heavy.
But lacks movement and fluidity.
Fissures result from a lack of pliability.
Anything solid has an innate propensity to break given enough pressure.
Only those that burn hot and stay liquid are immune.
Whether it be from passion alone or the convection of pure heat
the fluid and pliable remain unscathed.
Solid rock may crumble.
And a fissure in a frozen heart will only lead to its breaking.
Jim T. Gammill 