Nirmal Merchant

They tell me follow your heart,
They tell me to look before I leap,
Fact tells me that the heart is but an instrument,
Incapable of thinking or feeling..
These emotions - joy, rage, sorrow, love and hate
Products of the head attributed to the heart.
Yet Reason, own the head alone.
Reason, that stands on the crutches of evidence and rationale
Reason, that is cripple without the faculties of perception.
Faculties, that the head so blindly trusts, but are easy to deceive.

Pity the heart which so dutifully does that its meant to do..
Unmoved by the accusations of deception
Of being foolish, un-predictable with no sense of direction.
Of promises and dreams that it never fulfilled.
Of making you run where only fools rush in.
But a slave of the head..it toils to keep the flame burning
My head-the opportunist master..
Takes credit for all good that goes
Accusing the heart of all bad that comes
Yet the heart goes on.

Oh Heart, pray tell me what purpose drives thee,
What inspires this devotion, this rhyme, this beat,
This sense of contentment, serenity, calm and peace,
As if you're purposefully marching
Where you could suspend this rhythm to eternity.

-- Nirmal Merchant