The Yin and Yang of My Being

The Forces of My Psyche Calms and Fights

Nour Boustani
Write Under the Moon
2 min readApr 27, 2024


I would split the seams of cerebrum —
split-split into chaos, and,
yes, order too.
What stirs, in the silent hum, before the storm?
Can unseen whispers mold the roar of thought?

My brain’s halves: at a ruckus —
disheveled banquet,
devouring thoughts, as they tick, tick, tick —
Chaos — she dances wild on neuron sparks,
unhinged, and wilder than wild.
Her feet stamping galaxies, out of synapse darks —
rearranging the cosmos, with a madcap smile.

Is control merely the dream of the wild mind?
Order sits prim, sipping logic from a bone-china cup.
What patterns lie hidden in the chaos of the cosmos?
Can precision capture the essence of a whirlwind?

Neat lines, everything just so —
grid-like neurons,
a brain-maze, not a strand messed up,
cataloging the whirlwind as it blows.
Once dead, then twice —
A chance to toss the dice.
Where do balance and pandemonium —
meet and merge?
How does the mind guide and redraw itself?

A brain, divided at the roots, blooming
in this curious soil of twilight noons
Ah! What tricks I’d pull with two lives —
one foot in bedlam, the other in quiet.
Balancing the beam where sanity thrives,
conjuring storms, with a whispered spell.

Chaos, order, my loves — our tango cheats time.
In these opposites, what truth lies?
With each, a beginning, a spell, a climb —
into realms where rules —
bent and torn,
whisper secrets of what it’s to be reborn.
What mysteries emerge between dissolution and creation?

— © 2024


and the team at Write Under The Moon.