Central to everything else is the heart of me. My brain thinks but without my heart beating there would be no thought. Life which is accepted by everyone as the accepted idea. Is not the total meaning of everything. There is an eternal nature that goes beyond death the heart of me, is that means of direction. The heart of me beats as long as it can just an organ in a complex system of parts that leads add carries the burden of the rest of the parts. God which by nature is divine inspiration separate from the heart of me but al all consuming measure in my soul and a living memory of the heart of me. I fail to remember my heart but it never forgets me, quietly achieving all the necessary duties it performs to maintain and nurture my life.

The heart of me desires better things is content with what is have and accepts less than it can contain or hold. The heart of me cant contain the pain and anguish it seems to require but instead goes out to all it can and allows itself only the circulation of blood that it pumps. It must be guarded at all costs and vet is given freely to anyone who requires it. Still you can't have it at any price and it will only succumb to the love of a woman. While creation is so beautiful and the cross so burdensome yet the heart will still want that. The heart of me full of words and the pen I write with my means of expression.