For so long I have worked to convert false and illusory love into something genuine and real.

I took every secret, every lie, and tried to make good of it, convert it with my own love, and hold it in my heart as if somehow sacred.

It cut me off from believing I was worthy or capable of experiencing authentic love…so much so that I lost the connection to my own self love.

My heart never forgot. It diligently safeguarded that little piece of me while it held all the other illusions and hopes.

The portion of my heart that held onto dreams of apologies and repair finally grew so heavy and full of empty promises that it ripped itself away. Painfully it twisted and tugged, like an overripe piece of fruit trying to resist gravity’s pull. It finally fell away. Oh the sorrow. Even letting go of something rancid and rotting is still a severing, a deep and real loss.

As that fruit of my broken heart smashed to the ground, its void still consuming my awareness, little seeds of potentiality embedded in the ground. I saw in them hopes that somehow we have all learned from these lessons of untrue love.

Somehow we will remember that without filling there can be no emptying. Without love there is no hope. Without unabashed openness and courage, the fruit cannot ripen and go on to somehow grow into something beautiful.

And in the meantime, the void from the fallen fruit begins to fill with new leaves.