winged hearts

a heartmaker once kept all the hearts he had ever created locked safely in silver boxes.

each heart had its own shape and size, its own hue, its own heartbeat-rhythm, its own life.

every single heart also happened to be lonely.

(they were all locked in separate silver boxes after all.)

so, every time the heartmaker would peer into each box as a routine...

...the hearts would stop beating.

the heartmaker was befuddled by the unresponsiveness of his best creations.

he tried changing the silver boxes into golden ones encrusted with diamonds.

nothing changed. (except for the fact that he had wasted his time in making those new boxes)

he tried connecting each heart to its own life support machine.

still, the hearts rejected the presence of whatever was linked to them...

...and it almost made the heartmaker give up.

but he didn't.

one cold night, when he knew the hearts were sleeping, he took them out of their boxes.

carefully, he placed them beside each other, and watched as they snuggled closely.

thinking deeply and nodding, he observed them some more before putting them back.

(and he definitely saw how each heart shivered as it was wrenched away from the others.)

the heartmaker couldn't be more satisfied as he set off to work on something new...

...with hope that he would be right this time.

when dawn had arrived, each heart woke up to find itself with an attached pair of thin, crystal wings.

the hearts were amazed by the exquisiteness of the wings, but were still sad.

(it's because they would be of no use to them anyways.)

so, how great was their shock when each silver box broke apart slowly.

the heartmaker smiled as each of his best creations stretched out its wings...

...and flew to one another, beating magnificently.

he named the reborn masterpiece as the locomotion of victorious emotion.

(the wings may be fragile,

but they're more than enough.)