I cup it gently, rolling it over, sighing and smiling and protecting it from danger. I blow gentle warmth on it, watch it fog and clear again, fading in and out of focus. It thrums, then whimpers – capricious and changeable, and mine.
The heart is a contradictory treasure, stone-weighty yet feather-fickle. It is fragile, yet infinitely self-healing - can shatter on a whim, a careless word, a thoughtless omission, and be reborn perfect moments later.
It is the only treasure worth keeping, yet it works best when given away. And therein lies the secret – to give it to someone who will cherish it, and give his in return.