For all our collected history, tales from ages past

From each lonely epoch that flew so very fast

That hath been but two constants at war for our command

The heart of the animal and the mind of the man.

Now this contest seemed so simple, finished from the start.

Irrational, futile and useless were highest praises to the heart.

But the mind looked out in wonder, the world within its grasp.

Nothing could halt its plans or loosen reality's clasp.

But the heart struck back with dreams, visions written in the stars.

And asked the brutal question: What have you done so far?

You've filled our aching belly and wetted a thirsty throat.

Are there not other accomplishments on which you'd rather gloat?

You've built up to the heavens, and soiled the sparkling sky.

You've stretched across wide rivers and made the forests die.

You've burnt what could be burned and tossed out all the rest.

You've killed what could be killed and it's more than you could guess.

But with swords you did the tongue's work, with fire you formed the rain.

With steel you tore the earth awry and found pleasure in the pain.

With greed you stole your neighbour's land, with lust you stole his wife.

With anger he took your sleeping son, with vengeance you took his life.

This is your altar, the sacraments on which you stand.

The brutal, cunning malice of which you've defined the man.

These are your accolades, the ribbons on your wall.

The blood of hapless victims has paid for each and all.

But while you've dammed the rivers, I've let the waters flow.

And whilst you bomb the gardens, I'll watch my flowers grow.

You write your piecemeal treaties. I'll sing a newfound song.

You command your courts. I still know right from wrong.

Feeling has been lost to you but hope can still return.

Don't live a life of misery and become ashes in an urn.

Love will thaw your fingers, numbed by evil's cold.

And the heart will liberate you from monstrous burdens old.

Allow me to save you while there still remains a chance.

Beat swords into ploughshares and war into romance.

Feel kisses on your cheek instead of knives at your throat.

You'll find you sleep sounder with a partner, not a moat.

The heart spoke its appeal with the tones of defeat

For the mind would not surrender, like ice to the heat.

Logic was its doctrine, but ego it did anoint.

It would rather end the world than yield a single point.