The heart knows no logic. It does not gauge fault,
imperfections nor does it see the possibility of a beautiful tomorrow.
It lives in the now,
savouring every minute of blinding illusions.
And although circumstances may dictate a darkly sealed fate,
the heart dives into it anyway, blissfully even.
As the owner of the heart, you fear like a parent for its child.
The early years of caring for it
like anything else does not matter
Time passes, and you are torn between its growth
and your wanted caution.
You write rules but the heart constantly breaks them.
The heart knows no logic. You cannot direct its course,
You cannot contain it, you cannot speak for reason
It lives in the now,
Seeing nothing but the beauty of loving even in the absence of being loved
And although circumstances may dictate a darkly sealed fate,
The heart dives into it anyway, blissfully even.
As the owner of the heart, you fear like a parent for its child
You are saddled with pain for the wounds of the heart,
You long to keep it still in your arms, but you know more than that,
because the heart does not exist for you to keep.
As the owner of the heart, you cringe at that feeling of helplessness,
Knowing that the countless disillusions or brokenness does not matter, because
The heart will dive into it anyway, blissfully even.
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