In a lifetime, hearts are gradually circumcised and transformed into usable objects.
It's the social demands, conformity, sarcasms and stories.
The Hedonistic; the Erotic; the Amusing; the Political; the Charitable.
All artificial, off-the-shelf, plastic, constrained hearts.
But, if you misconstrue the world, how do you shape your heart? You don't.
You can't see the signs. You don't understand the stories. You won't empathize with complainers.
So stupid, you can't change who you are - you can only live of hope.
No choice but keeping your raw, immature, primitive, collosal heart.
A titanic whale - focused, clumsy, slow.
A whale doesn't try; it just has to swim.
The tail moves the sea, the skin feeds the fish, the eye folds the light, slowly.
So large and strange, it's mostly ignored, mocked, feared.
The curse of a curse - afraid, it hides in the bottom of the sea.
But why's that?
A whale can only be a whale.
That's what a whale is all about.
No point condemning the gods.
No point living like a fish, a dolphin, a shark.
You can only swim, following the sound of life,
Longing for the one fish that's overjoyed by your cryptic whistles.
Shall a whale just be a whale.
Shall a heart just be a heart.