A Tired Mind and Its Pure Heart: A Poem

A tired mind jostling is a pure heart half indulged. 

The disgruntled soul and the virtuous one –  

two strangers sharing the same head and chest. 

Cosmic conflict doesn’t announce itself. 

It arrives with the silence of a structural shift, 

the way doubt settles into the foundation. 

Somewhere between who you are 

and who you’re still becoming, 

the heart keeps its own docket. 

Tracking the debts the mind refuses to pay. 

To be or not to be? 

The question was never a choice of exits. 

Rather it was always about courage 

to remain a work in progress. 

A tired mind and its pure heart. 

Still here. Still at war. 

Still, somehow, not finished.