Everyone carries the burden of his own heart

Everyone is covered in the color of their own heart.

Whether it's good or bad, whether it's messy or complicated.

To know a person.

You have to go to the heart. He must overcome all the existing barriers and learn to go up to his heart.

Because a person is what his heart is. No less. Not one more superior.

Imagine. All movements. All the breaths. All the shapes and forms that come out of a person. All of it. All of it. It all depends on your heart.

All the external conditions that seem to put a person in one state or another are only elements that allow the echo to surface.

One cannot do anything that goes beyond the dimension of what one is at that moment, in that moment.

The perfection of the heart.

Yes, the perfection of the heart.

Even a person's outlook on life is directly proportional to the perfection of their heart.

But assumptions such as this would happen if this were to happen, this would happen if that were to be reached, this would happen if this were not lost, are completely incomplete and unfounded,

Because the center of life takes shape according to one's heart. That's exactly why.

Who seems to have nothing. Or a person with a pure heart who is in very difficult circumstances is in pure contentment. Every day is spent overcoming completely different obstacles: material, spiritual, emotional... Some you overcome, some you get stuck on the way. Some leave you breathless.

And a person who has achieved many successes, who is very socially adept, who is very much loved (who appears to be loved), is actually suffering from a very serious affliction.

Not much, the answer to my little heart was hidden in the light of a candle I lit at night.

No more, no less.

I cried but never told anyone.

How worthless this whole mess was.

I don't know if I was different or misunderstood.

But my heart was broken the way a glass is broken. And once.

At that moment everything stopped. Everything I had worked for lost its meaning so violently that I thought all hell had broken loose.

I can't describe it.

My heart still beats timidly and I blame myself for that now.

The space I occupied was very small. But the ones I fell in love with were bigger than me.

How can I explain?

We didn't get along.

I didn't ask you for anything. I just looked at you with empty eyes. I didn't expect anything. But I didn't expect this hard slap.

I was slowly erased from this world like a wrongly marked question. I have no more worries or delusions.

It turned out to be just a big lie.

You don't have to pity me anymore. I'm used to it. I know you're no good to me. Don't expect it from me. I have no strength left.

Those who do not breathe the breath of the heart cannot open the truth of life.

He who is not aware of the dirt on his tongue cannot even recognize his heart as the cause of that mud.

Because the person ;

He does not worry about it. He thinks about it. He does not think so that he sets out to search. He does not search. The possibility of finding it rises like the sun.

No flower blooms its fragrance for a long time, unless it has a nose and a being capable of inhaling all the particles of that musk.

That is to say.

To be able to drink. To breathe it in. To be able to inhale.

You need the right interior for these.

Love.

Who doesn't know how to smile at life. It doesn't touch any fool. It does not reach the realms of blind swamps.

Blessed is he To the one who finds himself. So to speak. The one who stumbles, crawls, goes in search of himself. Blessed!

Blessed is he who doesn't

To those who don't sell it to their ambitions.

Blessed are those who still stand on the same line!