Simply put, at the base of all matters, is the heart.
We can analyse agendas; our differences; but the bones of our own personal narratives can be revealed as a desire for one thing.
Erstwhile the heart beats. Its mission; to sustain life. Yet somehow, it undergoes transmutation to become something else; something more; altogether.
A catalyst for our emotions.
And of belonging.
In this we holdfast, unrelenting in our pursuit love.
And of hate? It is not the antithesis of love, merely the absence of it. We must be tireless in monitoring our metronome of life, as taught to us by the tub-thump of our mother’s heartbeat, our first-known sound.
Mother Nature knows no slumber. The sound of her beating heart is ever present, in all things. Even we, in our bleakest times, listen for it. Until no longer that sound beats within us.
Is death the ultimate culmination of love?
Or is it to be so alive, that we can love what death touches?
By Sarah ©2018
Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Saturday Mix – Same Same But Different, 24 February 2018, Task: Use synonyms for the following words – table (agenda), sleep (slumber), take (narrative), foot (base), black (bleak). Synonyms used in my prose are shown in parentheses; and also, Sammi Scribbles, Weekend Writing Prompt #43 – Heartbeat, Prose Challenge: In less than 175 words, write a story that uses the sound of a beating heart for dramatic effect.