Heart

Arbitrary moments wherein my heart will surely break charge me with a flick of happiness, a counsel that I’m still human. My heart is not stone. This elates me. Many times have words slipped past my lips in a hushed plea, "Guard my heart…” 

Yet, life is often unkind. One can’t very well say, “Stop that!” and expect all that moves to grow still, all who breathes to listen. The universe has its own agenda. Am I powerless against it?
 
Arbitrary moments wherein my heart will surely break hurl me to blindly grasp for a single tendril of tenderness amid streams of unseen winds. My heart retracts enough I can take delivery of grace of gladness, even if a mere splash. I am, indeed, still human. This gifts me with the desire to risk it, my heart, over again.