I love feeling my heartbeat. Resting my hand and feeling the steady and strong vibration of her divine movement.
Because in the chaos of uncontrollable events, the innate flakiness of the human being and the general dishevel of day-to-day life, I know she will be trying her best, pumping away.
She rarely gets any credit nor attention, unfortunately. My heart works quietly and calmly, doing one of the most vital jobs known to mankind. A job we, quite literally, would not be alive without. A constant, monotonous job, pumping the same blood in the same rhythm, day in and day out.
She moves with me too! Speeding up her sacred duty without me even having to ask, slowing down at the perfect time without me raising a finger because she has learned of me so well. Where are her rewards and recognition?
My heart does not care for gold, if anything requests to keep all metals away from her. She does not want any fame, she’s quite happy to remain hidden behind my ribcage and between the lungs working away for as long as I shall live.
She just asks that I have fun, eat a decent amount of greens and run around once in a while. She wants to see me dance and laugh and truly exist, and she’s excited to experience it all with me too.
The second most sacred bond one can have, I believe, is with themself.
The first? That’s for another day.
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