It is good.
It is good to shatter your heart
How else can you know what is inside? What breathes and dies inside.
It is good to crumble your hopes
By what other way can you define your story? Which moment is a climax, which moment will pass slowly into the gentle night. How would you know when to luff out the canvas sails or to pull the rope deeper into the flesh?
Each of our great lovers represents great truths in our understanding of life, a certain way of thinking. You are not simply losing a warmth, an embrace, a person who sees the folded up corners of your eyes and thinks that lilies could bloom from the shores of your eyes. No, not only that. You are losing a cascade of possibilities, a moirai.
It is good to burn your maps
By what other manner can you stumble ungracefully onto the foreign shores of your mind?