The intellect then lives, the heart is blind.

The blossom blooms, indifferent to man
It follows its design to reproduce.
And men complain, for men now rarely can;
Must sublimate their power to other use.

And yet we may in reveries of joy
Feel one with nature ,happy and in grace.
This mood can overwhelm the girls and boys
And like all living creatures, they embrace.

If we stray too far from origin
When we are disembodied into minds
We split ourselves to doubles, so to twin
The intellect then lives, the heart is blind.

Our bodies are not devils in their sin
We are our bodies  and should live therein



About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
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