Discouraged is the man who never said never,

then heard It whisper his name.

When Trial had shifted to Shadow, 

Sorrow had found a new game.

Beaten is he who refused to give up,

but found he never could win,

for playing against one's own Shadow

is like stilling a bough in the wind.

Hopelessness befalls the tired man

who waited like a turkey for wings.

And when they came in he realized

that Time makes a fool of such things.

Lost and done searching; the sailor is Grim

when the light at the shore is too dim.

Eyes are no use for a blind man,

and hope without light can't begin.

But Hope is not the only thing

that darkness cannot hope to bring.

For lack of light removes one more--

the Shadow can't be evermore.

The heart is a funny thing.  Physically, it beats life; figuratively, it lends itself for love.  The heart is meant to share and yet we protect it.  It is the strongest, most powerful motivator within us and yet the most   f r a g i l e   part of ourselves.

Being an openly loving person, for many years I continually wondered, why?  Why are people so inhibited by the most beautiful and powerful parts of themselves?

Now I know.

And at times like these--alone in my dark house, inhaling the intoxicating scent of a Sweet Jasmine candle, Andrea Boccelli and light summer rain playing in the background--I wish I was still wondering why, rather than feeling why.  Because no matter how strong a heart is, it's something like clay. Once touched, it will never be the same. True, after working at it for a long time, a master sculptor can make it become absolutely anything he wants...but the process is certainly grueling...and I am no master.

I hold it true, whate'er befall;

I feel it, when I sorrow most;

'Tis better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all.

--Alfred Lord Tennyson 

How I wish my heart could believe it.