Hearts are an uncanny situation and with prediction is the unknown without any sixth sense, you're this muscle whom only endures due to the present and nothing more or less.

 

 Listen to your crowded silence in the moment lies there a collage of emotions dabbe on your eternal pulse. 

 

 It shattered then grieves,

it wallows,

it scars,

it sacrifices, and it cries, i

t pains,

it aches, and its oppression is unmistakable,

dwelling inside this foreshadowing sorrow.

 

 The rage,

it's madness,

it's blindness,

it's forceful pull,

it's pace,

it's ambition,

it'  s becoming frustration ,

​

it soars the overwhelming rush, digging into uncharted territory feeding the interception everlasting flames how it's inferno is too high for even earth's soggy crust to wipe out the ignition entirely closer towards the climb of silence, the pulse's momentum

​

increases simultaneously at peace with the mind’s eye then

it smiles,

it melts,

it's ebullient nature,

it explodes,

it's boundless,

​

it doesn't recognize rank, it is the mystery known as Love.