The poet in me

Deep within, there is a poet in me. He appreciates beauty. He appreciates colors and patterns. He is always filled with a sense of wonder. He lives in dreams. He lives in stories. He lives in fantasies. He likes sitting on a river-side and throwing stones. He gazes at the moon for hours for no reason. He talks to trees. He feeds the birds. He likes to walk long distances. He likes to sit silently and observe others. He doesn't always make sense.

There is also a rationalist in me. He thinks that he knows a lot about the world. He has read a lot. He has a scientific outlook. He knows the molecular structure of water. He knows the real distance between earth and moon. He also knows which color of light has greater wavelength. He always talks logic and sense.

The poet and the rationalist try to be in good terms with each other. In case of a conflict, the poet lets the rationalist win. Because winning is important for the rationalist, not the poet. Being called wise is important for the rationalist, not the poet.