“Settle deep in your rotting soil
Refrain from budding out.
I’ll laugh at your struggle and toil:
no change to bring about.
The sun is ever out of reach.
Your branches will wither.
All your strength my toxic thoughts leech –
better stay and dither.
I’ll plant invasive seeds of doubt;
rip the roots if we grow;
starve every grand new plan with drought
and put salt where I sow.
You can’t sprout –
Our destiny is… coal.
Do the deed:
Your purpose now dispose.
Tell your seed:
this is just how life goes.”
Beware if such power thoughts maim;
They start out harmless, falsely tame.
There is a secret hearth in every hall,
that thaws all those who enter and depart.
It resolves every baseless fear and brawl,
and from all hate, wiser viewpoints impart.
Sit close to it: feel warmth out of season.
It’s there waiting, until it’s understood
to spread courage and joy for no reason;
better to try, than faintly hide – as would
the man who gave to others his keys and…
didn’t believe in all our inherent good.
In this quest ungiven.
the journey not ending.
A purpose worth grinding.
Find words to shake,
you from that place.
The pain to wake,
so first this brace:
You put yourself,
into that space.
A newfound self,
will get you out.