I spit out all the bitter things; my heart they will not sour.
I tend my glow of fires warm; doubly in a dark hour.
The world can be a most raucous sea, bashing us to & fro.
But when it calms, it falls on us to decide which way to go.
We can choose to practice in the chop, the ways we choose to steer…
Or paddle on to safer shores, far away from waves so near.
Either choice may bring us joy, but neither promises us peace.
The workings of calm we long for rests inside awaiting grease.
Some already feel this & some just haven’t heard of it yet.
So, pass the oilcan to those in need so less of us need fret.
You can choose which element to be when facing life’s rough throes.
Not metal, fire or wood; but water! It can wear all their clothes.
L.B.Stowe 