My finest work she helped produce. In those moments, feeling rejected, Heartbreak was God’s gift; the first journey to myself. Oh how my heart bled with tears, from pain I couldn’t describe. I blamed Him yet somewhere in the very recesses of my being, I knew she was a girl I could not keep. For my poetry, Heartbreak I thank you.
And then, there was my friend of nineteen years; my buddy and best brother in the whole wide world. I mean, we shared a space and even a name while we were together, so close I knew when he was leaving, but couldn’t get myself to own a life without him. And even now, in this moment, I see your face God’s wealth. You left me wealthier with a spirituality I could never have had. And for this, Heartbreak I thank you.
Heartbreak was born on Sunday; the day she said she loved me. Her eyes, most alluringly, said, forever. I agreed, succumbing to the beauty of her blackness. But it was not to be. Time away from each other watered down our love into a type of spite that felt like sprinking salt on a wound, half healed. It hurt but I could cope with it, for a while…waiting to see if Sunday would come around again. Looking backwards, I didn’t wait in vain. She made me pray until I saw a vision of my prize. Sunday finally came…after a Saturday of wining and great feasting. ‘You should have waited, ‘ she said. But I was still too drunk from the day before; from how it doused all the pain with the vision of happily ever after and the stupor of saying to someone else, ‘I do’. Heartbreak you did that and for it I am thankful because you taught me to have little patient with people who do not listen to you.
But happily ever after wasn’t enough. The flower of dreams was not to be at all. She bloomed late and in the while I waited, I wanted something more. So I traversed the Sahara, somewhat hopelessly, looking to find the thing I missed. I mean, they said the was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. But I reached the end-or so I thought I did-and still…nothing!
One day while wandering through this vastness of sand called life, I struck gold, I thought. The thing I saw glistened in the sun. It was gold. I was sure it was. And as I tried to reach out to touch it, it was gone. Heartbreak herself had played her last trick on me. Subtly? Yes. But this time, the vault was wide enough for me to slip through. And there she was, The Muse. Heartbreak gave me something more than gold…my personal legend in the famous words of Paulo Coehlo.
Thank you Heartbreak !