The Free Radical

It only wants to be clever, recognized, stroked and stoked–
Even when it’s clearly the butt of the joke,
But the mind is like an old canoe’s paddle
Unsuited for oceans; more for puddles of prattle.
Your life is titanic when you posit a spirit,
But the life of your mind may biologically fear it.
So then the heart is no captain, more of a rudder–
It doesn’t guide, teach or punish; it isn’t your mother.
Your heart is the way… into uncharted waters.
It knows the way… it knows, and nothing else matters.
For no matter the effort one spends to deny it,
In the end we must learn we cannot defy it.
We can hire consultants, advisers, attorneys…
But their expertise knows jack-shit of our journeys.
There is but one eye who ever reads your heart true,
It is your own inward gaze, so quietly you.
And all of your questions about life, love and cancer,
Your heart is quite thrilled to easily answer.
But don’t expect to hear words, or receive a prompt healing.
The heart speaks precisely in the language of feeling.
The mind loves perplexities and all sorts of excuses,
As the heart patiently accepts all its abuses.
And as your thoughts churn a tizzy into a fit…
Your heart marches on… never minding a bit.