Bred to pump, born to love, this form of artistry of arteries bleeds for the sake of travailing; to love rather than not at all and to work endlessly for the pleasure.
The heart's first love is the body that hosts it, its second the giver of its blood.
Once activated in feeling after purpose, the love of the heart usually remains unchanging despite tremors of change.
The heart beats anyway --- a skip bringing serious effects. A thought, a panic, a new pattern ... all capable influences of a death or deaths.
Without love, blood would never be.
Without the heart, life could never live.
Ironically, the lack of love received never kills its passion to breathe love whether its host consciously decides.
The Cure of Life
Choice bridges voids of absences no matter the circumstances.
Through choice, life typically flourishes in both seasons of good and poor; death only reigning when the choice is made.
When choices are avoided, life's pulse flattens for a moment as pressure finds its way in the choice of avoidance. It is the pressure of a death ongoing.
Regarding the heart's manner of love, love lives as a natural aspect that has to be chosen in acknowledgement while overpowering that flow of will.
Love was never born forcefully nor born to be forced as it is a force of its own.
Considering the nature of the heart, love lingers in every fragment of the muscle to be and that already is ... making love the ultimate ailment with no need for a healing of itself.
In comparison to love, the heart is who needs a sense of itself to remain whole no matter the scarring, hence life upholding life through its dimensions of being by being chosen to be loved for it.
