The Pulse of Hearts

The Pulse of Hearts

Whoever reads the title would say, peace emerges here,

For there is no harmony or peace without honoring the phrase.

You may ask

Do you mean the beating of hearts or their fluttering?

Or do you sanctify it and call it the joy of hearts?

Or what do you name it? Do you call it the soul of hearts?

Yes, they are words unknown,

Meanings untranslated,

Understood only by the hearts of lovers or the fearful.

How do I know if I am fearful or in love?

Would you believe me if I said

That when the heart touches and is struck by love's arrow,

It feels whispers, beats, and pounding,

As if the entire world

Rushes upon it at once?

Overwhelmed by astonishment,

Dreading the impossible,

Thinking of what is to come, the unknown.

The weak heart cannot bear it,

Yet it neither tires nor relents.

For love's arrow is inseparable,

Its bitterness, honey,

Its words a tale,

A never-ending story.

Love is the lantern of lovers,

Every time they gaze at it, they see their beloved

Dwelling within it.

It lights their time, their life through the years.

Love is a paradise where lovers dwell,

Even if the other does not return their affection.

Love is the joy of a lover for their beloved,

Even if exchanged by a mere glance.

They remain adrift in their eyes,

As if drowning in seas of honey and gardens of bliss.

Pure love is an angelic bond,

Its path denies possession,

Built on sacrifice, prepared to give oneself selflessly.

A question persists,

Needing clarification in this piece:

Did humanity sing of love for nothing?

Or did they sing its words in fear of losing it,

So that its words would not fade with time,

Leaving lovers searching for meaning, finding none,

Unable to craft a title for love.

So they sang of love with the pulse of their hearts, unceasingly.

Love is a calamity for those who cannot tame it,

It is either paradise or fire.

The paradise of love is respect, connection, and harmony,

But the fire of love is jealousy, doubt, ambiguity,

Bitterness, and strife.

If the bond breaks and the springs of love and beauty dry up,

Lovers are lost, dwelling in misery and defeat.

How many a lover has died sorrowfully,

Losing their beloved to death or the tyranny of years.

But lovers with confidence

Are not defeated by time or the scheming of others.

Their life is joy, their love is devotion,

Their faith, the piety of true lovers.