Along dawned the day,
wet, gloomy and full of petty envy.
The villagers gathered around the broken fountain for their meaningless gossip.
The topic of the day being
“Who has got the most beautiful heart?”
One by one, they climbed atop the fountain,
each of them ripped his chest open for everyone to see the beauty of the persons heart.
A young man approached the crowd,
“I have the most beautiful heart!” Proudly he shouted.
He climbed atop the fountain,
ripped his chest open,
presented the crowd with the most beautiful heart of them all.
Bright, beautiful and blooming with life
the young man’s heart captivated every villager with its beauty.
An old man walked up in-front of the fountain
He looked up.
“I have the most beautiful heart” Calmly he stated
The crowd burst at him.
Mocking, belittling and spilling their judgmental spite at the man
“May I show you?” Asked the old man.
The young man jumped off the fountain.
With a sarcastic tone said
“Everyone has the right to waste our time today.”
The old man climbed the fountains side,
opened his chest in-front of the crowd.
From his chest a dark, broken, half dead heart emerged.
The blood was long dried,
pieces were missing,
others were forcefully stitched together – Barely hanging.
Most of it was either dried, pierced
or had another piece that didn’t belong there holding it intact.
The crowd was shocked.
“How can you claim this abomination to be beautiful?
Did you rise to ruin our already gloomy day?”
The old man looked at the angry crowd and said:
’tis not the color,
that pull the weight of beauty.
The hearth that is ripe and pure
is a cowards heart.
One that selfishly hides from the world,
constantly fearing fear.
The true beauty of a heart
is seen by the wounds it bares,
by the times it had been broken.
By the way it sacrificed the light within
in order to shine a light
Only a heart given away
is a heart worth having.
So ask yourselves.
How does your heart fair?