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.