So lonely is the heart when it goes out hunting,
searching for that spark it believes will keep it beating,
longing for a love and going after it boldly
in the midst of a land that treats it coldly.

Not knowing how to die
with every inch of it's being
it gives life another try
over and over
until it's just tired and worn,
stressed and strained
steadily hunting for a purpose 
to keep it going 
over and over again.

Yet a bold heart 
will put aside the fear
of being punctured,
for the heart is a lonely hunter.

Searching for something 
no other can give or understand
as it shifts and rebuilds
within a losing game,
yet continuously searching
for what it knows it needs
over and over again-
whether it's satisfaction
or a dear friend,
not thinking twice
of the past's punctures-
and the world  is filled with such hearts
that are embedded in the shells
of lonely hunters.