Nature of the Heart

From Ibn Malik:

She is the moon and you are her poet.

Her virtuous beauty calls you,

Between the spectral clouds.

At first she hides her face,

Behind her nightly veil.

You implore her out to you,

Night after night

With your songs of sweet affection.

Slowly her trust is built

Her faith in you secured.

Bit by bit she moves her veil

From smiling crescent,

To glowing cheek.

Till her entire luminous face,

Is revealed before you.

Night after night you smile to her

Tell her of your love.

Until she smiles freely before you,

Her light to you unbound.

She holds you there,

And in the dark,

She lights your way.

Making you feel

Like both her admirer

And her great hero.

You see her beauty

And you feel her warmth.

But still she seems so far

Her touch you cannot grasp.

And this girl, whose devotion

Seems unfaltering,

Leaves your heart still asking for more.

Then one night, she covers again,

And in her hesitation,

You find offense.

So you turn from her, in anger

And you detach your gaze.

Her light still shines upon you,

But now you show your back.

How could you understand?

Her fault was not in fear,

But in purity and pious.

How can you understand?

That her hesitation and her heart,

Both go hand in hand

That hiding and shyness in shadow,

Is just her nature.

She is a cat and you are her string.

She intrigues you with her curiosity,

Hidden in her smile.

She entices you with her feigned disregard,

While her eyes forfeit pleasure.

At first it is just a game.

You dangle your heartstring and she swipes her hands,

Back and forth

You both play.

She’ll sit by you and listen

As you whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

She’ll lay her head, and you feel that love

That she loves you more now

Than any else could.

The warmth of her arms

Hides her true heart.

Then her truth is revealed.

You’ll smolder her with affection

You’ll drop the string in her paws.

And she’ll be bored,

Or forget what it felt like.

She’ll turn away

She’ll scratch your face,

She’ll burn your heart.

You’ll leave from her and vow never to forgive

Her cold heart and her hateful soul.

But when she’s alone,

When she’s cold again

She comes back slowly.

Laying in your lap,

Holding you tight.

Her eyes looking straight to you

Swearing her love

And begging for yours.

How can you refuse?

It is after all,

Only her nature

And she plays her game again

Toying with your heartstring.

Why do we chase after the cat?

Who only plays with her string,

While our hearts dangle in the balance.

Why do we turn from the moon?

Who devotedly shines upon us,

Her warmth and her adoration.

This is why the romantics are called hopeless.

This is why we run from love.

Why we’re afraid to show our hearts,

For fear of dropping and breaking.

And why we make the same mistakes

With the same loves again and again.

In the end it’s all because,

It’s in our nature.


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