Two scholars meet, they speak with care,
They weigh each word and comb the air.
They study risks, they count the cost,
And soon they find the moment lost.
One says, “We ought to think this through,”
The other says, “I quite agree with you.”
They cite their books, they quote the wise,
While love sits laughing in disguise.
For love requires a little fool,
Someone who gladly breaks the rule.
One must forget what sense has taught,
And leap before the leap is thought.
One must be mad enough to stay,
When logic says, “Just walk away.”
One must look straight into the fire,
And call the danger sweet desire.
Two brilliant minds can share a room,
Discuss the stars, dissect the moon.
Yet love needs someone slightly daft,
Who laughs while logic storms the raft.
So let one scholar guard the door,
While one forgets what doors are for.
Let one be clever, calm and bright,
While one says, “Darling, feels right.”
Perhaps Dostoevsky knew the game,
For love makes fools of both the same.
One starts the madness, one agrees,
And both surrender, weak at knees.
Know Thyself 