My Own Heart Is The Overlooked Spark Poem by Mark Heathcote

Walks, mountains apricot looking for god
Hopes of a porticos door, façade
Lava lamp, overlooking its spark
Forgetting the heart is a matriarch.

Wanders out of a clifftop, lighthouse
In reverse to the country, townhouse, mouse
He’s pretending he’s not travelled miles
It’s perverse at first there’s no reconciles.

Clutching his pay as he goes; he says I won’t be long…
“Father, I’m coming home”. It was I, I who was wrong.

I needn’t of trekked a million miles
To find enlightenment clear my mind
What I needed couldn’t be improvised
Prodigal son, halleluiah! What a find.

Father, my heart is the matriarchal ark
My own heart is the overlooked spark.