heartshape

The heart only reveals its true intentions after the one for whom it beats has gone and already moved on. It is like a child that unceasingly astounds with simple reasons and untainted judgment yet nevertheless rouses the most extreme of emotions, even those that are thought to be chained beneath the dark alleys of the soul.

It reminds of Mother, armed with support and, at the very least, acceptance. It never tires of pumping breath into life, and never regrets what it sacrificed. It admits without question and doesn’t refuse what it gets in return. It never complains, never criticizes, yet like the selfless being that it is, one day breaks down in tears, and despairingly give up.

It is like the teacher who could’ve walked on a fancier career path but had chosen to stay, if only to prove that the best lessons in life need not be magnificent.

It surprisingly resembles Father, the self-appointed guardian, the one who chastises with iron fist and speaks in harsh riddles; whose warnings come in bundles at embarrassing hours, at unexpected moments. Yet, as always, the austerity that truly masks concern imparts wisdom that comes just in time to rescue.

The heart with its many faces is both deceitful and honest. It only hollers “Help!” when it’s breaking, only talks when it’s hurting. It never grumbles ‘til its suffering, and never confesses ‘til it’s too late.