Fountain of farraginous feelings,
Unperturbed you are, yet unsettling;
Pumping life to decrepit flesh in whole,
Thou art truly, ‘The brain of the Soul’.
Rages, Envies, Hopes, Elations
The cradle of myriad emotions;
Lover dyad’s precious possession,
The lone reason behind each notion.
Sometimes you do break,
By betrayal or by life’s misery,
But alive or dead, still you make
The Job, serenely bearing the injury.