Garden of the Heart — cross made of white and yellow gold with diamonds and sapphire
Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war
How to divide the conquest of thy sight;
Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar,
My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.
W. Shakespeare
Your heart envelops your soul, love is born again in it.
Your heart taps unceasing melodies of your being. His sounds turn into music and a blooming garden. The heart is shining. In your every cell. In your every thought. And there is no place left where the flowers of love would not bloom. Their scent intoxicates and colors the blood.
The fruit of love is so easy to pick and mutilate. And from this, it is even more expensive.
Through her virgin tenderness. Through the glare of the sun, which even a sage makes a fool.
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