Life or Crimson Pools?

She felt the organ, the size of a closed fist, beating deeply within her body, her spirit, her being.

Her thoughts took her back in time to the Egyptians that therorized the heart was the seat of the soul, thoughts, and emotion.

Her's had once been tightly closed, as a fist, but was opening slowly, cautiously, and fearfully.

Though the emptiness had been filling, there were still stabbing pains emanating from the organ she had so closely guarded.

At times she she sensed the trickling of ruby colored beads oozing from the still open wounds.  They slowly moved down her beating heart and changed their paths with every breath she took, each fluttering movement of her chest.

She wondered about their final destination. Would they come together, nourish the organ that had been bound in barbed wire, feed it, and allow it to fully open, and experience life the way her Creator had intended?

Or would they find their way into a crimson pool on the floor draining, not only life sustaining nourishment, but her soul as well?

She hoped, dreamed, and wished for the former, but continued to fear the latter.

Respectively,