The heart, a drum that softly beats,

A river flowing, fierce yet sweet.

It speaks in whispers, silent cries,

A compass drawn beneath our skies.

It knows the weight of joy and pain,

The thrill of love, the loss, the gain.

It races wild with passion’s fire,

Yet breaks with grief, yet dares aspire.

It is the keeper of our past,

Each echo held, each love steadfast.

Yet still it dreams, still it believes,

In second chances, golden leaves.

So let it guide, let it be free,

The heart that longs, the heart that sees.

For in its rhythm, raw and true,

Beats all we are, both old and new.