Your heart does not belong to you. You didn’t choose it, You didn’t put it there. You didn’t tell it to begin, And you can’t tell it when to end.
You might feed it well, You might clothe it; You might take it out on afternoon walks; You can even kill it, if you choose. But that does not mean it was ever yours.
If I could choose what I would feel, I’m sure my life would be much easier; I’d have everything under control – No mess-ups, and no uninvited guests. No overwhelming fears to handle, No danger of overreacting, No rush of joy that threatens to ruin A perfectly adequate expression on my face. Everything would be just fine.
If I could choose whom I would love, And how much I would love them, God knows I’d be more organized And make much better choices.
But I have never had a say in what my heart is feeling. I could never choose my thrills, my fears, My inner passions, Which memories I lose, And which would stay forever.
Your heart is not your own.
In fact, your heart is not a solid thing at all. Your heart – is but an opening; a window. It is your connection to the love this world is giving. It is the passageway through which you can receive, Or not receive.
Because the only thing that you can do, You silly mortal, Is to open it and close it as you wish.
Much as your eyes see light – And you can’t tell them what to see – You can only choose to open them, or close them; Just so, your heart is your connecting point to love – And love has many faces – And your hand is on the window pane; And your only choice is whether you will open it, or close.
That is your power as a human: How much, how fast, how great, how slow, how slight. But never What is in there, or what is out there; That is not for you to say. Take a look and you will see That that takes place Completely on its own.
So how will you approach Your heart?