Love the irrational

there’s a truth in the irrational - that forgets what makes sense and remembers what it loves

Dancer (1925) — Joan Miro

A poem about the irrational that keep you up at night, that break your heart, that have no right to go away. The part of us that forgets what makes sense and remembers what it loves.
There’s a truth in the irrational. See notes below.

Love the irrational

Love the irrational,
the one that has no reason, 
but remains, 
when all arguments are made.

The one that hears the calling
and stays up through the night, 
for the joy of burdens, 
that have no right to go away.

The one that doesn't know,
but what imagination touches,
what can't be taught,
only lost.

The one that finds in fiction
the truth that fact comes after,
and seeks
what cannot be understood,
only found.

The one that forgets
what makes sense
and remembers what it loves,
the intimate,
with all that can break your heart.

Love the irrationality of love.

Notes

I wrote this on a cold morning bike ride. It was after a sleepless night — working on something I couldn’t justify, in the middle of a decision where every reason and rational argument pointed one way, and I went the other.

We’re trained to trust reasons. But much of what shapes us does not come without one.

This poem is for that other way of knowing — through imagination, love, and the truths that cannot be argued into being. The part of us that forgets what makes sense and remembers what it loves.

The Red Sun (1950) — Joan Miro