A thing that beats with

The sole intention to

Keep one living

Along with a soul who

Holds it so it can love

And pump blood into

Every being that longs

For that feeling, that

Devotion,

That reason for being,

That soul purpose for

Living and longing and

Walking

The very places so curious

To us, so out of reach yet

There all at once,

Words can never begin to

Describe the many funct

-ions, other than hopelessly

Attached,

Hopelessly devoted to

Creating life, yet one it

Can never escape,

You see, your heart is

A bittersweet thing

—Something shaped

And formed at the beg

-inning of time

When you were so wan

-ting to exist, so searching

For that simple breath,

That first taste of life.

A heart is forever yours,

But has no will to choose,

However keeps you, holds

You in place until it’s very

Skeleton can do so

No longer.

Love is something one

Chooses, but the heart

Is given to us early on,

No, not as a guide, but

As our own ticking

Clock,

Tick tock

Tick tock

-ing away,

Making life possible

And purposeful, since

Without it, we could

Never be,

We could never breathe

Or walk the places we

Long so to see.

We should be like the

Heart, helplessly and

Devotedly living and

Working and pumping

Success and life into

Those we did not

Choose,

—And also those we

Have.

We are to be building

Blocks, not destroyers

Of others happiness or

Reason for journeying

The face of humanity.

Red is the color of blood,

But also the color of

Power, of love,

It is the deep statement

Of pushing onward and

Pulling others up and

Willing them to keep

Going even when their

Bloody wounds weigh

Them down,

While their wounds pulse

Pain and discomfort, the

Heart battles, it feels,

It cries out, and most

Of the time we ignore it

Until it explodes,

Until its very purpose

For living is cut short

By our own despair

And desperation to

Feel no longer.

Pain is something the

Heart feels deeply.

The heart feeling is a

Beautiful and wonderful

Metaphorical miracle,

For when we hurt, our

Chest burns, it aches,

It tightens with every

Strained breath and

Every taught muscle.

The heart keeps us

Going

—That is it’s purpose.

What shall yours be?