The Poetry of Logic

By Lexi Jones

An absurd timeline, uniting two souls who would seemingly contradict everything the other stood for, led them both to the same secluded bookstore. A place whose motto dared all who entered to “leave all you think you know outside.” They had flooded their gazes on every book in aisles they were normally captivated by, struggling to find the one that should ultimately find them. Sweeping through a foreign section felt like betrayal to the usual writing styles they usually consumed. But for some reason, the day felt like it was urging them to divert their stories.

Veda wore poetic prose like it was her given name, where metaphors bonded truth and opinion. Phoenix’s ideology was all about logical reasoning. Truth and opinion would and always would have contrasting meanings.

He was a realist. She was an idealist.

Though after skimming unfamiliar categories, they found each other on the same side of the sociology section. Their eyes were focused on each spine they passed by. Words became more legible as their bodies moved closer, until they finally heard their names being called from the shelf.

The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe deemed Veda its new home, while The Harvard Psychedelic Club by Don Lattin stood bold to convince Phoenix it was worthy.

Veda finally looked up, checking her surroundings, when she saw him. He wore a maroon mock-neck, which to her looked like a mockery of the silent reader archetype. His glasses were rounded and clear, adding to his character.

He looked up to catch her gaze. To him, she was like a human fairy. She exuded radiance, nostalgia, yet wisdom. She looked free.

“Great minds,” he said, motioning toward the similar focus of her psychedelic-themed book.

“They do,” she responded, though curious as to why he would take the concrete, informative, and analytical route to read something about a topic so unchained and open-minded. But they carried on, walking in the same direction, taking a seat on separate chairs to start their novel journeys.

As time went by, they couldn’t help but notice how entranced they were by the other’s interest in such a different format of literature they would individually go for.

Veda cleared her throat, looked up at Phoenix once, then back down at her book and read aloud,“The point wasn’t to explain anything. The point was to feel it all.”

She caught his gaze once more, waiting to see if he had a response to this philosophy.

Phoenix closed his book for a moment, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.“Doesn’t not explaining risk losing the very thing you want to hold onto? If you don’t understand it, how do you learn from it or make it part of your life?”

Veda’s eyes continued to pierce into his, sparking a bit of challenge.“Some things aren’t meant to be pinned down by logic. Feeling is the understanding, even if it can’t be put into words.”

He shook his head gently, smiling.“I respect that. But for me, explanation is part of feeling. The mind needs to grasp something to truly embrace it.”

He flipped through a few pages of his book and read,“The answers didn’t come from the chemicals. They came from what was left behind once the chemicals were gone.”

Phoenix looked back up at Veda, wondering if she agreed or understood the depth behind the more scientific explanation of this phenomenon.“See?” he said quietly. “It’s not just about the experience itself, it’s about the change it leaves in you afterward. That’s where meaning lies.”

Veda considered this, then whispered,“Maybe the feeling and the meaning are just different parts of the same story.”

Their eyes locked. Two worlds, different but somehow connected, trying to understand both sides of the same mystery.

The café around them seemed to blur as they both slipped into their own little world. The hum of other patrons faded into the background as their focus narrowed to the space between their words.

Veda closed her book. Her fingers fiddled with the edges of the pages, holding on to the echo of its words.“I think that’s what poetry does,” she said. “It captures change. The feeling stays long after the moment has passed.”

Phoenix leaned back into his chair, relaxing a little more in Veda’s company.“And that’s what science tries to explain. The how and the why. How those changes happen, and why they affect us the way they do. Like two languages describing the same truth.”

She smiled. “Maybe the real magic is when those languages start to speak to each other.”

He nodded, then glanced at the notebook next to Veda. His eyes flickered with curiosity.“What do you write about?” he asked.

“Mostly questions I have.” She answered. He stayed silent, patiently waiting for her to continue. She hesitated, then smiled shyly.“The kind that don’t have answers yet.”

He nodded thoughtfully in agreement.“I write unanswered questions too. Why memory forms, how the brain interprets emotion, the construction of the sense of self.”

Veda laughed softly.“Sounds like you’re onto solving a massive puzzle. I’m barely scratching the edges.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he said, leaning forward, whispering, “maybe the puzzle needs both the dance and the solution.”

They sat for a little while in silence, reflecting on each point of view the other touched on.

“Talking with you reminded me that there is wonder,” he told her.

Veda grinned and nodded. For the first time, she felt her walls of poetry begin to soften a little. Phoenix’s logic wasn’t a cage; it was a framework she could step into without losing herself.

“It’s easy to get lost in facts. Some things are meant to be felt, not dissected,” he continued.

“You can say the same thing about getting lost in daydreams. Some things may need to be more rational… have more reasoning,” Veda said.

“But maybe there’s a balance between curiosity and awe. Between logic and poetry.”

Phoenix looked at the book in his hand.“Maybe that’s what we’re both searching for.”

“To feel deeply and to understand clearly,” Veda added.

“I think the real courage is being able to hold both at once.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Words didn’t feel necessary. They were just comfortable having two different minds, finding quiet harmony in the space between science and poetry.