How much easier life would be if we could translate our hearts.
If we could correctly interpret its language.
That's the human dilemma, isn't it?
Figuring out what dance steps fit into the music our heart plays.
If only we could understand these bloody lumps, life would make sense.
We could move on.
But what happens to the magic?
What happens to the familiar fascination that enchants us when our hearts are ignited?
Isn't a lack of understanding the major ingredient in the recipe for thoughts that plague the mind, emotions that plague the heart and soul?
What is it that makes us climb to the highest of mountains and proclaim the craziest declarations of love?
Or unable to continue to lead perfectly laid out lives as usual?
What is it that causes this utterly unconcerned rumple in our lives, rumpling even more when ignored?
We don't know.
And that's it.
Our inability to pin down the cause of this wonderful chaos.
The mystery of the heart is the magic of the heart.
A glorious interference in the otherwise routine lives we live.