An emotional dilettante is about to tear

An emotional dilettante is about to tear and tear.
Yes. I, the lackey of logic, care,
Unstable as a rocky, cliff-side crag,
Feeling the free-fall- depressed and sad.
Hug me, for I will fall in love with falling:
Craving you, unchecked as a city sprawling.
Right now – irrational as the root of two
Quiet outside, but it’s just a rue.
Underneath the tractors are churning
Above fields of manure turning
A bag of weeds and seeds into a farm
That without plague or swarm
Will harvest bountiful fruit and wheat
Until in the sky we meet.