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Down
deep, my soul speaks to my head,
In whispers, oh so soft,
My head so often doesn't hear,
And other times it scoffs.
My head
is very rational,
My soul, well not so much,
It plays on feelings, attitudes,
And hopes and dreams and such.
My head
believes the things it sees,
My soul, the things it feels,
Its faith is like a mustard seed,
And hidden things reveals.
My head
is very skeptical,
My soul is like a sponge,
Accepting what my head rejects,
In faith it takes the plunge.
This
battle 'tween my head and soul,
Is with me every day,
While one says all is black and white,
The other says it's gray.
Yet as I
wrestle with them both,
I understand the truth,
That analyzing what they say,
Will lead to solid proof.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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