the heart played a game with the mind, to see who'd win over this body this one last time. neurons trasmit with amazing speed, quicker than the blink of an eye. The mind was always the first to act, to react, to rationalise & over think. It had the ace up its sleave, take what was given & then make it something radically different. Emotions trasformed into denials, feelings endlessly displaced. A fearce competitor for the prize of power - determination.
The heart could not keep such a pace with its mere beats. Its endless profussion of a fiery liquid so quickly became redirected. From the powerhouse of arteries to the dissipated capillaries. Unbounded emotion wanned so quickly. How could the heart win? it had the strength, the patience, but not the skill, the wit, the speed. And in that moment a plan conspired... the mind could not be beaten at its own game, but it could be tricked into an untennable position. The mind could win, with the prize of loosing.
The mind freted & flipped, it collapsed into a heap. Outdone at last - for once it had nothing to think. The heart won, breaking out of its cage and into the world. To guide its boy toward the truth. Yet its plan had unforseen concequences, unplanned tiddings. It discovered that the minds work could not be undone. The mind had lost, but now so too did the heart. It fell in love, and in a week the heart was broken, exhausted, decieved. The lacerations dug deep. To stop the blood, to seal the wound the mind stripped off its own mylien sheath, wrapped it round, and became infused with the hearts very being.
The heart thinks now, the mind feels, its such a strange thing, to sleep with the enemy, so lovingly.
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1 comment:
its just a drunk piece of fiction, maybe with some inner truth somewhere - i have a bad habit of having a glass of wine after work & blogging in very abstract ways.
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