Nothing is as difficult to comprehend as the heart.
If ever there was a foreign language that could be attached to my soul it would be the musings of my heart. Its power somehow running life into my veins and yet tragically confusing me at every turn.
A vessel that can spur tears as it spins smiles.
Cleanse with love and burn with heartache.
Excite with infatuation and break with fear.
Pump with optimism and pulse with deceit.
It’s the heart that conquers all in bliss or in fate
It’s the heart that haunts and it’s the heart that heals.
It’s something of mystery and something of truth.
The heart is a wonder that speaks to us all. The whispers of the heart are woven deep. What they transpire are either full of magic or defeat.