logic can be so tiring, <br />though sweet and straightforward <br />but it can be too exacting <br /> <br />and sometimes it does not work for us <br />it serves us a bowl of <br />destruction <br />less the imagination <br />hating the temporary cure of a fantasy <br />an illusion of glass <br />and light <br />and the provision for smell <br />of rare oils of lavender and <br />lemon <br /> <br />do you know that i have given too much reasoning <br />in exchange for the cold glass of <br />passivity? <br /> <br />i mean, just sitting down thinking about nothing <br />discarding the formula for living <br /> <br />like a bowl of clay under the sun <br />containing upon itself the song and caress of <br />sunlight <br /> <br />so gentle like a waft of air <br />around its ring <br /> <br />it is when i discharge what i have <br />when i surrender what i think i must be <br />that i become <br />fully alive <br /> <br /> <br />logic can be murderous <br />not allowing any twist of fate <br />on solid predictions <br />of this and that <br />with no allowance for a miracle <br /> <br />logic can kill us <br />how can it entertain other possibilities? <br /> <br />it is all numbers and facts <br />for which life is not. <br /> <br />i embrace possibilities now <br />as logic taunts and laughs <br /> <br />i am patient, i listen, i entertain what is hidden <br />from the grasp of the hands of theorems. <br /> <br />you see, i am relaxed, you should see the smile in my face <br />happier than the morning sun <br />the morning daisy.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/happier-4/
