The heart is not fragile; it is woven from the threads of every sunrise witnessed, every embrace ever given, every whispered "I love you" that still lingers in the air. It bends, but does not break. It aches, but does not stop. It knows how to stitch itself back together with time, breath, and the quiet strength of knowing love was never wasted, only transformed.
To heal, one must become fluent in the language of their own breath. With every inhale, gather pieces of yourself that felt lost. With every exhale, release the weight of what was never meant to stay.
🌬 Inhale: I am whole, even in my healing.
🌬 Exhale: I release what no longer nourishes me.
🌬 Inhale: Love flows to me and through me effortlessly.
🌬 Exhale: I am not defined by loss; I am expanded by it.
🌬 Inhale: My heart is strong, my love is sacred.
🌬 Exhale: I make peace with what is, and open to what will be.
The heart does not close itself to love; it waits; soft, steady, and unshaken. It knows that even in pain, it is still a vessel of light, still a temple where love resides. It does not forget how to mend, how to bloom again in the warmth of its own tenderness.
Because the heart is resilient. Even in loss, it beats. Even in sorrow, it sings.