surrendered on sand

i wanna be beautiful like george harrison. she was telling me about the documentary and clapton, the layla inspired wife. george took it like a man, with love, a little bitter, but with love. we're always losing things. holes in our pockets, hearts singing accordingly. cooperatively beating but feeling hurt so tangibly. the wisest man on the beach told me to listen to my heart, there is a truth. always a simple truth. the brain schemes and survives, even owning 40% of the heart, she said. brain cells in the heart. not enough to shade the truth. it arrives blue, beats blood red and governs the universe. i can feel it searching like a prison tower or lighthouse, contained or vast, scanning for life, a creature, a ship, home. insert one of those recovery mantras about gratitude, here. after the rain, there is a day of wind, then a clear sky, calm, warm sun, uplifting heart beating tirelessly for these moments and is flowering and expressing thank you, thank you again.