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Sunday, August 23, 2015

Slave to the Spiritual

There is a constant tug-of-war
between you and all emotions--
which are just hormones after all,
body fluids flowing home,

as fragile as the structure of paper,
seeping out through the skin,
seeking a source to lose itself in;

       for emotions are fluid ink;
writing, rewriting, everchanging,
going up to the boiling point
of blood and sweat; or down the freezing point
of regret, and

       its love is like water:
everflowing, the current electric;
where sometimes there is a high tide
and it overflows everywhere
and other times
it is a gentle flow, so still
you can't feel it moving,

and its absence feels like a drought
leaving you stuck,
and gasping gills filled with air,

where the brain is shaped
in its arms: a lack of its oxygen
starves the mind, it narrows
and grows too small to even think

that what you may now believe
to be emotions are often
merely fixed opinions,

for real feelings are blood
red with our biochemistry,
they unfold and you are paralysed
and unable, enslaved by the physical,
as it, in turn, is slave
to the spiritual.

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