Yet I Thought

When thoughts become obsessive,
Is my heart being made redundant,
laid off, cast off, sent astray 
recycled pulse rates mere skip hire fodder,
atrophied organ sinking into deep morass,
panic stricken warning notice object,
abject  part indigenous scarred,
or scared from sudden rupture,
once a golden seal enactment,
the intensity of love and verdant  pathways,
but thoughts they zigzag devious,
without a leash, curb or rein,
they stray like homeless  after dark drifters  
whose piercing blue eyes scupper vagrant mist,
but oh those torrid thoughts,
of past romantic Himalayan peaks,
where nostalgic loitering a back to front yen,
currency of tantalising  moment,
fluctuating in a  reckless high stake  instrument,
cliff top shudder inadvertent plunge,
yet each thought I used to frolic with,
in meadows of a mythic mystic mind,
we’re so glare blind and delusional,
dragging me on circuitous dandelion epiphanies,
symbolising gurgle stream limestone cave exit,
some dual world attachment barely visible,
detachment on aloof scorched red wood boundary,
thoughts are like those joined at hip beings,
feeding off the actual mesmerizing carousel,
of fleeting guests and life events,
or so it seemed, perhaps it’s just a thought,
of all those things that never settle in one spot