The second ode to my heart

O heart,
You cling to love because it’s rare and you feel it ain’t coming back,
not because you understand love.
And you don’t wanna miss it when it’s so close.

But don’t you also stick to sleep even past dawn?
Don’t you wish to keep reading even aft the library bell?
Don’t you want to live even though the yama handcuffs you under warrant?
It’s your generic ailment.

When it’s time, it’s time. Let go. Move on.
There’s a reason for ending each tale.
Throw away the spent goblet, ye thirsty.
Rivers meet the sea.
Stars explode and cool.
Love dies. Names are forgotten. Memories fade.
Nothing stays too long to be taken seriously.

And you know what:
sadness is a well marketed myth, thrown up by sadist losers.
Life is straight happiness and productivity, if you just maintain a straight steer when the lane gets rough.
Joy is far easier to get and keep, than gloom.
And success is easier than defeat.
Don’t believe the converse.
The mirage is addictive. Stay away.

O heart, you’re still young in this old frame of mine.
But stay real.
Be my steel comrade, ye fire to my nerves.
Rescue me when the inside grip loosens,
just as I saved you so many times before.
For I’m too frail to save you now.
It’s your turn son. Don’t let me down.