If matters of the head and heart 
Be clear as day and stark as black and white,
Like berries picked because they’re sweetly ripe,
That summer warmth will follow winter cold,
Knowing that day does always follow night,
How clear and certain would we know
Which wins? The heart or head?

How long should be the rope of hope,
Stringing along our heartfelt dreams and plans?
What if this rope that’s quickly wearing thin 
Be shorter than our mortal earthly life?  
Is it not then risky foolishness, 
To hold forth scores of wasted years
In anguished wait and watch?
 
As zest for life and laughter does deplete
In tandem with our flesh and bones,
When all around us, friends and foe
Live lives in convincing certainty, seemingly
Content with what has come their way,  
Should then our hearts concede defeat
And let our heads our masters be?

Would we not bad gamblers be to accept
The toss, that the head is greater than the heart,
Simply because it’s higher perched?
And should reason thus be given the nod 
To rein in quick, the rope of hope,
When both the head and heart
Have equal chance to win or lose?