Too often the heart can do what the brain can't and puts the grey matter to sleep---it has no limits and is free as the wind, it is spaceless and encircles the whole universe. It is a mystery beyond the brain's finiteness.
THE HEART OR THE BRAIN?
In my youth I held
the brain to be superior to all
the seat of all wisdom
and the university dons said: 'the call
of genius lies
in grey matter-
nowhere else--you students should know
lest you academically falter'.
I wore my degree
on my sleeve
I could talk my way through
it only brought grief.
I found through the years and tears
reasoning and logic was dry as leaves in decay
I learnt to laugh and smile, I smelled the flowers
I talked to kids, I tried to write poetry and in every way
my childish innocence and wonder
returned and I was transformed and born again
I began to feel and understand life's mysteries
its wondrous joys and its every deep pain
and how profound was peace and contentment
(who ever dared say ' Knowledge is the end-
the door to bliss?' Trust not lofty philosophy
it's a cynic, a joy-destroyer and not a friend).
My heart is with me every moment
and with it I converse and only in it I place all my trust
my brain is arrogant, without warmth and obtrusive
garrulous and obtrusive---say goodbye to it I must.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 8:14 PM UTC
Too often the heart can do what the brain can't and puts the grey matter to sleep---it has no limits and is free as the wind, it is spaceless and encircles the whole universe. It is a mystery beyond the brain's finiteness.
THE HEART OR THE BRAIN?
In my youth I held
the brain to be superior to all
the seat of all wisdom
and the university dons said: 'the call
of genius lies
in grey matter-
nowhere else--you students should know
lest you academically falter'.
I wore my degree
on my sleeve
I could talk my way through
it only brought grief.
I found through the years and tears
reasoning and logic was dry as leaves in decay
I learnt to laugh and smile, I smelled the flowers
I talked to kids, I tried to write poetry and in every way
my childish innocence and wonder
returned and I was transformed and born again
I began to feel and understand life's mysteries
its wondrous joys and its every deep pain
and how profound was peace and contentment
(who ever dared say ' Knowledge is the end-
the door to bliss?' Trust not lofty philosophy
it's a cynic, a joy-destroyer and not a friend).
My heart is with me every moment
and with it I converse and only in it I place all my trust
my brain is arrogant, without warmth and obtrusive
garrulous and obtrusive---say goodbye to it I must.
* prompted by a short conversation with Jamie , a fellow-writer in HP
today
# John Keats, in a letter wrote:
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections
and the truth of imagination. He is my favourite English romantic poet